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Essays  on  Human  Nature 


my 

W.  M.  Strickler,  M.D. 


^    O    -rHE 

UW!VER3iT  Y 

OF 


COLORADO  SPRINGS,  COLORADO    :    ;     1906 


EDliC. 

PSYCH. 

UBRART 


M 


Contents 

Page 

Bringing  Sunshine  Into  Life 5 

Highest  Good 15 

Relation  of  .Ethics  and  Religion 22 

Healthy  Mindedness 30 

Pessimism  and  Optimism 4.1 

Nervous  Derangements 53 

Superstitions 64 

Dreaming 76 

Moral  Insanity 87 

Kinship  of  Genius  and  Insanity 101 

Evolution        120 

The  Value  of  Moral  Character 127 

Formation  and  Effects  of  Character 131 

Character,  and  Happiness  as  a  Result        1  39 

Causes  of  Happiness 1  50 

^oine  Elements  of  Happiness] 161 

The  Pursuit  of  Happiness 1  73 

The  Effect  of  Happiness  Upon  Character       ....  1 82 

The  World  We  Live  In 188 

The  Problem  of  Poverty 195 

Some  Characters  of  Animals  Which  Are  Common  to  Man  207 

The  Transmission  of  Acquired  Characters       .      .      .      .  218 

Herbert  Spencer     . 236 

The  Human  Brain 249 

Industrialism 261 

The  Fear  of  Death , 271 


Bringing  Sunshine  Into  Life 

If,  instead  of  starting  out  to  bring  sunshine  pri- 
marily into  the  Hves  of  others,  each  one  endeavored 
to  bring  it  into  his  own  life,  as  the  whole  of 
humanity  embraces  the  lives  of  each,  then  all  would 
be  included.  In  approaching  the  subject,  I  will  say 
I  have  none  but  common-sense  methods  to  recom- 
mend. Those  who  have  only  metaphysical  and  supei"- 
natural  ones  generally  prove  themselves  failures. 

I  will  start  out  with  the  assumption  that  sunshine 
arises  from  the  pursuit  of  the  highest  good.  But 
what  is  the  highest  good?  According  to  Bentham 
and  the  Mill's,  it  is  the  promotion  of  general  happi-' 
ness,  while  according  to  Herbert  Spencer,  it  is  the 
promotion,  primarily,  of  self-happiness;  while 
according  to  Carlyle,  it  is  a  calumny  to  say  that 
men  are  moved  to  heroic  actions  by  ease  or  hope  of 
pleasure  of  any  kind  in  this  world  or  the  next.  'Tn 
the  meanest  mortal  there  lies  something  better.  It 
is  not  to  taste  sweets,  but  to  do  something  nobler, 
that  the  poorest  dimly  longs.  They  wrong  man 
greatly  who  say  he  is  seduced  by  ease." 

John  Fiske  speaks  of  the  desire  for  pleasure  as 
a  low  motive.  I  have  no  doubt  that  there  are  higher 
ones,  but  notwithstanding  the  dictum  of  these  men, 
the  desire  for  pleasure  is  universal,  showing  that  if 
is  original  in  the  human  constitution,  and  that  it 
cuts  a  prodigous  figure  in  the  actions  of  men  as  is 
evident  to  all.  It  is  not  only  a  mental  act  which 
influences  us,  but  the  nervous  energy  of  the  body, 
prompts  to  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,   for  whatever 

2- 


6  BRINGING    SUNSHINIS    INTO    LIFE 

promotes  pleasure  promotes  the  well  being  of  the 
body — health,  life  and  longevity. 

It  is  a  property  of  organized  matter  to  seek  that 
which  is  beneficial  and  avoid  that  which  is  injurious, 
even  whether  consciousness  or  volition  be  present  or 
not.  And  then  again,  there  is  Professor  Paulsen, 
of  the  University  of  Berlin,  who,  without  reference 
to  pleasure  or  pain,  claims  the  highest  good  consists 
in  the  ''exercise  and  development  of  life,"  meaning 
our  whole  life,  bodily,  mental  and  moral. 

This  paper  will  be  devoted  to  the  advocacy  of 
this  last  view.  According  to  this  view,  everything 
we  do,  think  or  feel  helps  to  carry  out  life,  and  con- 
tributes that  much  toward  fulfilling  our  destiny. 

First  as  to  the  exercise  of  the  body.  After  due 
rest  of  the  body,  inaction  becomes  unpleasant,  we 
become  restless,  and  we  want  to  be  out  and  about. 
Stirring  around  gives  us  pleasure.  It  may  not  be 
intense,  and  we  may  not  duly  appreciate  it,  and 
neglect  to  reflect  upon  it.  A  little  observation,  how- 
ever, shows  its  importance.  Let  one  observe  the 
play  of  animals  to  see  the  joys  of  bodily  exercise; 
or  watch  the  restlessness  of  the  caged  lion,  and  see 
how  he  walks  to  and  fro  in  his  limited  pen;  or 
observe  the  conduct  of  prisoners,  and  he  will  form 
some  idea  of  the  value  of  bodily  exercise.  It  seems 
to  scatter  the  energies  and  diffuse  them  through  the 
body,  and  brings  about  a  feeling  of  well  being  or 
health.  Although  this  feeling  may  not  be  marked, 
still  it  is  a  joy  before  which  all  other  joys  pale,  for 
without  health  there  can  be  but  little  sunshine. 

The  importance  of  exercise  to  health  cannot  be 
overestimated.  Moderate  exercise  in  healthy  air 
during  various  out-door  occupations  and  pastimes 
excites  into  activity  most  of  the  functions  of  the 
body,  especially  the  circulation  of  the  blood  and 
respiration  and  other  functions  intimately  connected 
therewith.     The  vital  powers  gradually  gain  vigor 


BRINGING    SUNSHINE    INTO    LIFE  7 

by  activity,  and  the  structures  concerned  in  their 
support  acquire  a  fuller  and  healthier  development. 
The  muscles  especially,  including  the  heart,  manifest 
increase  of  strength  and  firmness ;  the  blood  vessels 
are  improved  in  tone  so  that  they  distribute,  vigor- 
ously and  equally,  the  flow  of  blood  and  prevent 
partial  congestions  and  obstructions.  The  blood 
itself,  thus  energetically  carried  through  the  organs 
and  textures,  undergoes  the  complete  series  of 
changes  from  nutrition,  purification  and  arterial- 
ization,  by  which  its  integrity  is  maintained,  and 
by  which  it  is  adapted  to  sustain  the  several  func- 
tions of  the  body.  The  appetite,  the  digestion,  the 
spirits,  and  temper,  are  generally  all  improved  by 
exercise.  Instinctive  activity,  as  such,  is  usually 
pleasurable,  whether  mental  accompaniments  are 
present  or  not. 

And,  further,  energetic  action  is  in  itself  a  source 
of  pleasure.  Experiments  made  by  the  dynamo- 
meter, sphygmograph,  pneumatagraph  and  pletys- 
mograph  show  that  pleasure  is  accompanied  by 
strengthened  muscular  activity,  quickened  pulse-beat 
and  respiration  and  increased  peripheral  circulation, 
and  we  experience  a  feeling  of  general  well  being. 
We  are  more  alive,  and  glad  that  we  are.  Very 
rapid  and  lively  emotions  produce  a  sort  of  intoxica- 
tion and  giddiness  that  are  most  delightful.  Besides 
these  external  effects  of  pleasurable  feelings,  they 
are  accompanied  internally  by  heightened  excitation 
of  the  brain  centers,  which  is  accompanied  in  turn 
by  physiological  pleasure  on  the  mental  side.  Those 
who  can  command  the  time  will  find  it  advantageous 
to  intersperse  sedentary  occupations  with  short 
periods,  if  need  be,  of  exercise,  taken,  if  possible,  in 
the  open  air.  If  these  be  only  for  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes at  a  time  twice  or  thrice  in  the  forenoon  and 
afternoon,  they  will  contribute  considerably  to 
counteract  the  bad  effects  of  confinement,  and,  by 


8  BRINGING    SUNSHINE    INTO    LIFE 

giving  a  fresh  impulse  to  circulation  and  respiration, 
will  remove  congestion,  cool  the  head,  warm  the  feet, 
and  thus  refresh  both  body  and  mind. 

How  to  get  rid  of  our  surplus  nervous  energy 
is  a  great  question.  Although  getting  rid  of  it  may 
not  ])roduce  positive  happiness,  it  relieves  us  of  the 
misery  its  excess  produces.  The  accompanying 
newspaper  clipping  illustrates  the  subject: 

"There's  nothing  like  out-of-doors  to  drive  the 
blue  devils  away,  to  make  up  for  something  one  has 
lost,  to  make  up  for  something  one  has  never  had. 
WHien  I  think  my  family  is  disagreeable,  I  go  for  a 
walk.  WHien  I  know  I  am  disagreeable,  I  go  for  a 
walk.  When  my  friends  omit  to  send  me  invita- 
tions, I  go  for  a  walk.  When  my  clothes  look  time- 
worn  and  discouraged,  I  go  for  a  walk.  When 
ermine  is  the  only  fur  worn,  I  go  for  a  walk.  When 
my  late  sweetheart  decided  it  was  the  other  girl  after 
all,  I  stayed  at  home  in  a  dark  room  and  cried  for 
awhile.  But  afterwards  I  got  up,  and  went  for  a 
walk.     And  now  it  is  all  right." 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  effect  of  bodily  exer- 
cise on  the  mind,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  that  the 
mind  is  not  confined  to  one  corner  of  the  body — the 
brain,  for  instance. 

More  advance  knowledge  shows  that  every  part 
of  the  body  is  more  or  less  associated  with  the  mind. 
Wherever  there  is  a  filament  of  a  nerve  or  other 
sensative  structure,  therein  may  arise  influences 
which  may  affect  the  mind.  I  remember  reading  of 
a  boy  who  had  repeated  convulsions  and  whose  mind 
was  affected,  and  in  whom  nothing  wrong  could  be 
found  other  than  a  small  blister  on  one  of  the  toes, 
convulsions  and  mental  affection  being  relieved  by 
opening  it.  I  remember,  in  my  own  practice,  a  boy 
of  lo,  who  was  rendered  unconscious  and  delirious 
by  having  eaten  excessively  of  peanuts.     Showing 


BRINGING    SUNSHINE    INTO    LIFE  9 

that  an  irritability  exists  in  various  parts  of  the 
body  which  may  lead  to  mental  disturbances. 

Since  this  is  true,  it  is  not  strange  that  exercise, 
which  modifies  the  circulation  in  all  parts  of  the 
body,  should  greatly  affect  the  mind — animate  it 
and  rejuvenating  it,  and  bring  sunshine  into  life. 

With  regard  to  the  development  of  the  body, 
further  than  to  make  it  healthy  and  protect  it  against 
changes  of  temperature,  I  shall  have  nothing  further 
to  say  other  than  that,  while  a  full  development  is 
desirable  as  a  means  of  health,  excessive  develop- 
ment, such  as  prize-fighters  undergo,  unless  kept  up 
for  a  long  time  and  then  gradually  allowed  to 
decline,  is  liable  to  undergo  a  deterioration  which  is 
accompanied  by  unwholesome  and  depressing  effects 
upon  both  body  and  mind. 

The  exercise  of  our  intellectual  powers,  the 
manifold  means  of  exciting  our  minds  to  activity  in 
the  various  divisions  of  labor  and  business,  goes  a 
long  way  toward  producing  healthful  mental 
activity.  There  is  something  pleasant  about  the 
passage  of  ideas  through 'the  mind,  be  they  profitable 
or  otherwise.  It  is  more  agreeable  than  mental 
inactivity.  This  is  shown  by  the  languor  and 
depression  of  ennui,  or  lack  of  mental  occupation. 
The  brain,  the  organ  of  the  mind,  was  made  for 
exercise.  He  that  falls  short  in  this  respect  misses 
in  so  far  his  highest  good,  misses  in  so  far  the  sun- 
shine of  life.  ISTature  has  provided  so  amply  for 
activity  in  this  part  of  our  being  by  the  large  expan- 
sion of  the  nervous  system  called  the  brain,  and  the 
fact  that  it  is  amply  supplied  with  blood,  one-eighth 
of  the  whole  amount  in  the  body  going  to  it,  which 
means  that  there  is  about  three  pints  of  blood  all 
the  time  in  the  brain,  these  things  meaning  that  it 
was  designed  for  great  activity.  It  needs  activity 
as  much  as  any  other  part  of  the  body,  and  we  suffer 
if  it  is  not  actively  employed. 


10  HRIXaJXG    SUNSHJXJS    INTO    LIFE 

Take  a  man  who  has  been  accustomed  to  mental 
occupation,  and  mental  idleness  means  an  aching 
void  that  nothing  but  mental  exercise  can  fill.  It  is 
true  bodily  exercise  takes  the  place  of  mental  action 
to  some  extent,  for  tlie  brain  contains  many  of  the 
centers  of  muscular  action ;  but  the  mind  is  the 
agent  that  promotes  active  circulation  in  it  and  gives 
it  real  work. 

If  we  would  be  liappy,  if  we  would  have  sun- 
shine in  life,  we  must  think,  we  must  have  passing 
through  our  brains  ideas,  or  sensations,  or  impulses 
to  activity,  if  for  nothing  else  than  to  give  this  part 
of  our  anatomy  exercise  . 

And  then  again,  pleasing  mental  impressions, 
such  as  are  afforded  by  beautiful  scenery,  congenial 
associates  and  interesting  pursuits,  heighten  the 
benefits  of  bodily  exercise,  whereas  mental  idleness 
weakens  the  intellect  and  prevents  the  proper  func- 
tions of  the  body. 

When  the  circulation  in  the  brain  is  active  we 
are  competent  for  great  things;  w^e  forget  the 
clouds,  we  forget,  in  fact,  that  we  are  born  to  die. 
But  when  the  blood  flows  languidly  through  the 
brain,  a  mere  shadow  darkens  into  gloom  and 
threatens  to  overwhelm  us. 

If  our  employment  fails  to  furnish  us  w-ith  food 
for  thought  and  reflection,  and  if  we  have  no  subject 
in  mind  to  ponder  over,  we  should  read  (and  in 
these  days  of  public,  circulating  libraries,  there  is  no 
excuse  for  us  if  we  do  not). 

A  man  who  has  acquired  a  taste  for  reading  has 
an  invaluable  possession,  one  that  will  protect  him 
against  many  a  w^eary  hour.  Many  a  man  fills  a 
suicide's  grave  w^ho  might  have  been  saved  there- 
from by  such  a  taste. 

The  thought  that  our  mental  activity  may  lead 
to  usefulness  of  others  by  enlightening,  benefiting 
and  entertaining  them,  should  let  sunshine  into  life. 


BRINGING    SUNSHINE    INTO    LIFE  11 

And  then  the  thought  that  we  are  fulfilHng  our 
destiny  in  doing  what  we  are  adapted  to  do,  Hving 
out  our  lives  to  the  greatest  completion,  is  still  more 
comforting. 

The  development  of  our  minds,  the  constant 
application  of  them,  strengthens  and  unfolds,  and  if 
the  matter  dwelt  on  has  not  this  effect,  it  may  yet 
help  to  polish  them  by  improving  our  style  of  think- 
ing, writing  and  conversation.  As  we  do  not  know 
the  extent  of  our  capacity,  and  as  it  takes  a  great 
deal  of  training  to  find  out,  the  hope  that  it  may  be 
great  sustains  and  encourages  us  to  put  forth  and 
keep  up  culture,  and  at  all  events  make  the  most  of 
ourselves. 

As  in  the  case  of  physical  development,  we  need 
fear  no  evil  from  an  excessive  development  of  our 
intellectual  faculties.  One  part  of  our  mind  may  be 
developed  to  the  neglect  of  others,  and  this  needs  to 
be  guarded  against,  but  the  excessive  development 
of  the  whole  mind  needs  scarcely  to  be  feared. 

The  exercise  and  development  of  the  moral 
powers — these  are  the  last  to  present  themselves 
in  life, — the  capacity  to  distinguish  good  from 
evil — this  brings  the  age  of  accountability.  We 
have  not  only  the  power  to  make  the  distinction,  but 
the  one  is  attended  with  approval,  the  other  with 
disapproval,  and  the  feelings  of  disapproval  are  such 
that  if  we  would  be  happy  and  bring  sunshine  in  our 
lives,  it  stands  us  in  hand  to  steer  clear  of  the 
qualms  of  a  guilty  conscience.  The  exercise  and 
development  of  our  moral  powers  being  an  aim  in 
life,  then  we  have  here  an  employment  for  life, 
to-wit:  the  building  up  of  a  moral  character — our 
own  moral  improvement. 

It  is  fortunate  there  is  one  course  open  to  us  in 
which  the  word  failure  is  not  written.  And  here  is 
where  sunshine  comes  into  life  again,  because  fail- 
ure is  a  too  common  word  in  the  vocabulary  of  life. 


ij         Hiaxc;/\(;  sunshinb  into  life 

As  wc  grow  old,  our  bodily  powers  decline  and  all 
of  our  mental  powers  fail.  It  is  sad,  but  the  mem- 
ory fails  so  that  we  gradually  lose  the  information 
we  have  accumulated  through  long  years,  and  there 
seems  little  motive  to  try  continually  to  lay  up  facts 
to  gradually  leak  away,  or  culture  our  powers  of 
intellect  to  finally  fail.  But  the  moral  powers  do  not 
fail.  The  effect  of  the  long  practice  of  right  living, 
of  the  practice  of  honesty,  veracity  and  other  virtues 
upon  them  is  to  induce  a  habit  which  promises  to  be 
lasting.  It  is  true,  disease  may  undermine  our 
moral  powers,  but  it  at  the  same  time  relieves  us  of 
all  responsibility. 

The  subjugation  of  gross  appetites,  the  subordi- 
nation of  all  trubulent  or  violent  moral  and  mental 
emotions,  the  cultivation  of  the  gentle  and  contem- 
plative feelings  best  fostered  in  domestic  life;  in 
the  cultivation  of  these  virtues,  a  strong  habit  is 
formed  which  enters  so  deeply  into  our  being  that 
it  will  carry  us  through  to  the  end  or  else  prove  the 
best  safeguard  we  could  possibly  have. 

"A  good  moral  character,"  to  quote  the  language 
of  Professor  Maudsley,  ''implies  the  development  of 
one's  self — the  development  of  one's  faculties  and 
one's  self-control.  What  an  object  to  set  before 
one's  self!  If  we  all  aimed  for  that  object,  there 
would  be  much  less  disappointment  and  sorrow  in 
the  world.  If  we  all  aimed  at  self-development,  we 
would  all  succeed  in  a  measure;  there  would  be 
fewer  failures. 

''How  few,  however,  ever  think  of  making  self- 
development  an  object  in  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  admits  of  no  doubt  that  self-development  is  not 
made  a  life  aim;  that  such  formation  of  character 
as  takes  place  does,  in  the  great  majority  of  men, 
take  place,  as  it  were,  by  chance,  without  premedita- 
tion, as  an  incidental   effect  of  the  discipline  and 


BRINGING    SUNSHINE    INTO    LIFE  13 

training  which  they  undergo  in  the  pursuit  of  other 
hfe  aims. 

'The  formation  of  a  character,  in  which  the 
thoughts,  feeHngs  and  actions  are  under  the  habitual 
guidance  of  a  well-fashioned  will,  is  perhaps  the 
hardest  task  in  the  world,  being,  when  accomplished, 
the  highest  effort  of  self-development.  It  represents 
the  attainment  by  conscious  method  of  a  harmony 
of  the  individual  nature  in  itself,  and  of  the  com- 
pletest  harmony  between  man  and  nature,  a  condi- 
tion in  which  the  individual  has  succeeded  in  making 
the  best  of  himself,  of  the  human  nature,  with  which 
he  has  to  do,  and  of  the  world  in  which  he  moves 
and  has  his  being. 

"And  yet,  instead  of  this,  riches,  position,  power, 
applause  of  men,  are  placed  by  us  as  an  object  of 
life — such  things  as  inevitably  breed  and  foster 
many  bad  impressions  in  the  eager  competition  to 
attain  them. 

''Hence,  in  fact,  come  disappointed  ambition, 
jealousy,  grief  from  loss  of  fortune,  all  the  torments 
of  wounded  self-love,  and  a  thousand  other  mental 
sufferings.  There  need  be  no  disappointed  ambition 
if  a  man  were  to  set  before  himself  a  true  aim  in  life, 
and  work  definitely  for  it;  no  envy  or  jealousy  if 
he  considered  that  it  mattered  not  whether  he  did  a 
great  thing  or  someone  else  did  it,  nature's  only 
concern  being  that  it  should  be  done;  no  wounded 
self-love  if  he  had  learned  well  the  eternal  lesson 
of  life — self-renunciation." 

All  this  may  be  without  the  aid  of  religion,  so 
that  there  is  a  morality  independent  of  religion.  As 
is  shown  by  the  fact  that  Bode  and  Himaes,  who  are 
honest  and  truthful,  but  have  no  word  for  God,  for 
soul.  Heaven  or  Hell  in  their  language.  Yet  he 
feels  himself  constrained  to  try  to  be  moral.  At  the 
same  time,  a  belief  in  a  supreme  existence  seems 
almost  a  necessity ;   a  necessity  to  anchor  our  minds. 


14  BRINGING    SUNSHINE    INTO    LIFE 

and  he  that  looks  upon  the  present  arrangements  of 
rewards  and  punishments  as  an  evidence  of  a  Ruler 
of  the  Universe,  who  is  good,  and  in  favor  of 
righteousness,  has  the  best  of  the  argimient.  In 
other  words,  religion  is  necessary  to  complete  our 
sunshine  in  life,  and  the  development  of  our  moral 
powers.  That  they  are  entirely  evolved,  we  do  not 
say,  but  do  say  that  there  is  great  difference  between 
the  undeveloped  conscience  of  the  savage  cannibal 
and  the  highly  cultivated  conscience  of  the  civilized 
man ;  and  that  among  most  of  us  there  is  still  room 
for  improvement  in  discriminating  the  evil  from  the 
good.  At  the  same  time  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
danger  of  giving  too  much  attention  to  the  moral 
aspect  of  things,  as  there  may  be  developed  a  moral 
sensitiveness  that  will  keep  us  unhappy.  As  Steven- 
son puts  it :  ''To  be  honest,  to  be  kind,  to  make, 
upon  the  whole,  a  family  happier  for  one's  presence ; 
to  keep  a  few  friends,  above  all  to  keep  friends  with 
one's  self — here  is  a  chance  for  all  to  bring  sunshine 
into  life,  and  at  the  same  time,  a  task  worthy  the 
efforts  and  fortitude  of  all." 


Higher  Good 


In  what  does  welfare  or  the  highest  good  con- 
sist? The  highest  good  of  the  individual  consists 
in  the  perfect  development  and  exercise  of  life. 
Before  giving  a  more  detailed  account  of  this  con- 
ception, however,  I  deem  it  wise  to  discuss  another 
view  of  the  nature  of  the  highest  good.  An  influ- 
ential ethical  school  contends  that  welfare,  or  the 
highest  good,  consists  in  the  feeling  of  pleasure 
which  life  procures;  that  pleasure  is  the  thing  of 
absolute  worth,  and  that  everything  else  has  value 
only  in  so  far  as  it  conduces  to  pleasure.  Accord- 
ing to  this  school,  the  subjective  feeling  of  pleasure 
is  the  absolute  good. 

According  to  another  school,  it  is  the  develop- 
ment of  individual  and  social  human  life,  regard- 
less of  whether  it  yields  pleasure  or  not. 

Is  the  teaching  of  the  former  school  true  or  false, 
and  not  is  it  good  or  bad?  Theories  are  bad  only 
in  so  far  as  they  are  false. 

Let  me  add,  that  pure  and  moral  men  have  never 
been  wanting  among  the  representatives  of  this 
school,  such  as  Bentham  Mill,  etc. 

It  would  be  absurd  to  say  that  human  nature 
does  not  esteem  pleasure  of  absolute  worth.  And, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  all  living  beings  invariably  and 
universally  strive  after  pleasure,  and  that  pleasure 
(or  freedom  from  pain)  is  the  only  thing  which  is 
desired  absolutely,  so  claim  the  advocates  of  this 
school.    This  we  call  in  question. 

What  is  the  evidence  of  self-consciousness  on 

15 


ir>  HIGH  EST    GOOD 

this  point?  Does  it  reveal  pleasure  as  an  end  and 
everything  else  as  means? 

Let  us  first  make  clear  to  ourselves  what  we 
mean  hy  ends  and  means:  I  am  cold  and  desire  to 
get  warm.  I  can  accomplish  my  end  in  different 
ways ;  I  can  take  exercise,  I  can  put  on  warmer 
clothes,  or  I  can  light  a  fire.  For  the  latter  I  can 
use  wood,  turf  or  coal.  Here  we  have  a  pure 
relation  of  means  to  end.  The  end  is  warmth,  and 
I  desire  it  for  its  own  sake.  The  means  I  desire 
only  for  the  sake  of  the  end;  in  themselves  they 
are  totally  indifferent. 

Now,  does  the  same  relation  obtain  between 
human  activities  and  pleasure?  We  sit  dow^n  at  a 
table  hungry.  Is  pleasure  our  end,  and  eating 
related  to  it  as  an  absolutely  indifferent  means? 
^N"© ;  we  eat  because  we  are  hungry.  Hunger  impels 
us  to  eat.  The  state  of  the  body,  indicating  that 
food  is  needed,  impels  us.  It  is  true,  pleasure 
ensues,  but  this  pleasure  did  not  pre-exist  in  con- 
sciousness as  an  end.  We  eat  to  fulfill  our  natures, 
that  is  because  it  is  natural  for  us  to  eat. 

We  come  into  this  world  with  bodies  possessed 
of  a  certain  amount  of  energy.  It  is  natural  for 
the  child  to  want  to  work  off  that  energy  by  exer- 
cising its  limbs,  and  it  does  exercise  them,  long 
before  it  has  an  idea  of  the  pleasure  it  will  afford. 
By  its  nature  it  is  impelled  thereto. 

The  same  is  seen  in  lower  animals,  as  in  the 
skipping  of  lambs,  the  frisking  of  dogs  and  the 
prancing  of  colts;  it's  their  nature.  They  are  im- 
pelled to  these  things  without  reason  upon  their 
part. 

It  is  true,  they  afford  pleasure,  but  this  is  a 
result,  and  not  the  impelling  cause.  The  impulse 
and  craving  for  activity  preceed  all  consciousness 
of  pleasure. 

Or  must  we  boldly  say  that  all  desires  actually 


HIGHEST    GOOD  17 

aim  not  at  the  thing  or  action,  but  at  pleasure? 
James  Mill,  a  bold  and  acute  thinker,  claims  we 
must. 

We  have  a  desire  for  water  to  drink;  that  is 
strictly  considered  a  figure  of  speech.  "Properly 
speaking,"  says  he,  ''it  is  not  the  water  we  desire, 
but  the  pleasure  of  drinking."  As  if  the  desire  for 
water  did  not  arise  from  the  condition  of  the  blood. 
The  illusion  that  we  desire  to  drink  is  merely  the 
result  of  a  very  close  association.  Like  the  anecdote 
of  an  Englishman  seated  on  the  bank  of  a  lake, 
fishing.  A  native  approaches  him  and  informs  him 
that  there  are  no  fishes  in  these  waters.  Whereupon 
the  Englishman  stolidly  replies  that  he  is  not  fishing 
for  fish,  but  for  pleasure.  This  man  had  evidently 
dissolved  the  association,  and  regarded  fishes,  fish- 
ing, and  pleasure,  in  the  light  of  means  and  end. 

Do  other  people  do  the  same?  It  seems  to  me 
that  the  mirth  occasioned  by  this  reply  is  a  suffi- 
cient answer.  Indeed,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  will  or 
desire  is  always  directed  upon  the  thing  or  action 
itself,  and  not  upon  the  pleasure  that  follows,  and 
they  are  so  directed  because  our  natures  urge  them 
thereto.  That  the  desire  for  pleasure  does  exert 
a  great  influence  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  is 
difficult  to  get  men  to  consent  to  do  a  thing  that 
they"  know  will  not  increase  their  pleasure,  but  that 
will  render  them  unhappy. 

At  the  same  time,  if  pleasure  is  the  main  thing 
that  is  desirable,  then  pain  should  be  eliminated 
from  the  earth.  If  this  were  done,  would  it  make 
for  the  benefit  of  the  earth  or  not?  Besides,  the 
benefit  of  pain  as  a  warning  against  injury;  it  has 
a  most  salutary  effect  in  developing  character. 

But  why  are  we  not  gratified  at  the  illusiorLJDf 
perfect  Jiappiness  ?  It  is  because  we  should  find 
such  a  life  unbearable.  It^  would  fail  to  exercise 
and    satisfy   the    most   powerful    impulses    of    our 


H) 


18  IIIGIIEST    GOOD 

natures.  W  ho  would  care  to  live  without  opposi- 
tion and  struggle  ?  To  battle  and  to  make  sacritices 
for  one's  chosen  course  constitutes  a  necessity  of 
human  life. 

~~  Carlyle  states  this  truth  in  a  beautiful  passage 
when  he  says :  "It  is  a  calumny  to  say  that  men 
are  roused  to  heroic  actions  by  ease,  hope  of  pleas- 
ure, recompense — sugar-plums  of  any  kind  in  this 
world  or  the  next.  In  the  meanest  mortal  there 
lies  something  nobler.  It  is  not  to  taste  sweets,  but 
to  do  something  nobler,  that  the  poorest  dimly 
longs.  They  wrong  man  greatly  who  say  he  is 
seduced  by  ease,"  as  quoted  in  the  previous  thesis. 

The  biologist  will  not  regard  pleasure  as  the 
absolute  end  of  life,  but  will  consider  both  pleasure 
and  pain  as  means  of  guiding  the  will.  In  the  feel- 
ing of  pleasure,  the  will  becomes  conscious  of  the 
furtherance  of  life  by  the  exercise  of  function. 
Hence  pleasure  is  not  a  good  in  itself,  but  a  sign 
that  good  has  been  realized. 

When  the  impulse  is  satisfied,  pleasure  ceases 
for  the  time  being.  It  is  vanishing.  Surely  the  rul- 
ing motive  to  life  is  not  a  passing  feeling.  It  must 
be  something  more  permanent,  something  that  is 
not  satisfied  and  ceases  to  operate  continuously. 

What  is  that  something?  There  are  doubtless 
more  than  one  principle  operating  to  determine  one's 
actions,  but  that  principle  is  not  always  the  con- 
sideration of  happiness. 

If  the  pursuit  of  happiness  were  the  goal  of  the 
will,  there  ought  to  be  no  question  as  to  whose 
happiness  is  meant,  that  of  the  individual  or  general 
happiness.     This  is  an  important  question. 

One  school  says  without  hesitation,  general 
happiness.  They  make  a  strong  case.  In  fact,  the 
dejire^foi^the  happiness  of  others  is  so  general  that 
it  seems  like  a  law  of  nature  that  we  should 
desire  it.    And  yet,  on  study,  the  fact  becomes  self- 


HIGHEST    GOOD  19 

evident  that  our  personal  happiness  should  take 
precedence.  Our  own  happiness  is  so  intimately 
connected  with  life — that  is  to  say,  things  which 
promote  happiness  are  also  things  which  promote 
life, — sunshine,  fresh  air,  food  and  bodily  exer- 
cise— that  to  neglect  them  or  postpone  them,  in 
order  .to  secure  the  happiness  of  others,  is  to  lose 
life  and  thereby  fail  to  secure  the  happiness  of  any. 

Again,  by  looking  after  our  own  happiness  we 
render  ourselves  more  capable  to  contribute  to  gen- 
eral happiness,  whereas  by  neglecting  ourselves  we 
become  incompetent  to  yield  happiness  to  others,  so 
that  looking  after  general  to  the  neglect  of  indi- 
vidual happiness  is  suicidal.  This  leads  to  the  con- 
clusiqnthat  self-happiness  or  selfishness  should  be 
the  _goal  of_iJf£,  This  is  a  conclusion  we  cannot 
accept,  as  it  is  not  a  worthy  motive. 

We  do  not  believe  that  it  is  made  a  leading 
motive  to  action,  and  that  men  stop  to  think  whethe^ 
ov^  not  such  a  course  will  lead  to  the  greatest  happi- 
ness,  or  to  their  own  happiness,  when  confronted 
with  the  rightness  or  wrongness  of  an  act. 

They  are  more  liable  to  ask  whether  it  is  in 
accordance  with  their  natures,  and  will  redound  to 
their  improvement  or  the  improvement  of  others. 

Improvement  is  in  keeping  with  the  doctrine  of 
evolution.  Through  evolution  the  tendency  is 
upward — to  move  from  the  simple  to  the  complex, 
from  the  homogenious  to  the  heterogenious,  from 
the  rude  toward  the  perfect.  Happiness  is  not  in 
the  line  of  development ;  it  is  a  side  issue. 

Those  philosophers  who  hold  to  evolution  as  a 
most  important  principle,  sidetrack  that  principle 
when  they  place  happiness  in  the  leading  role.  Im- 
provement and  perfection  and  further  development 
of ^UTjnatures  should  be_lhe  primary  object  of  life; 
andji  happiness  attends,  so  well  and  so  good.  This 
leads  me  to  say  that  men  pursue  their  callings  now 


liU  HIGHEST    GOOD 

from  one  motive,  as  the  pursuit  of  happiness;  now 
from  another,  as  self-improvement,  and  now  from 
none  at  all,  except  the  impulses  of  their  own  natures. 

Will  the  action  improve  us  or  others?  That  is 
the  question.  If  it  will,  it  will  do  more  to  determine 
the  advisaility  of  performing  it  than  the  question, 
will  it  increase  my  happiness?  Improvement  is  in 
the  hne  of  development  or  evolution.  Happiness  is 
not,  and  how  strong  advocates  of  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  such  as  Herbert  Spencer,  can  turn  it  aside 
in  favor  of  the  happiness  doctrine  we  cannot 
imagine. 

Ethical  principles  are  not  inate  or  inborn ;  if  they 
were,  there  would  be  no  difference  of  opinion  about 
them.  They  are  bits  of  knowledge  from  experience 
expressed  in  a  few  words.  One  may  operate  gen- 
erally, such  as  the  happiness  theory;  another  may 
be  more  noble,  such  as  the  improvement  theory,  and 
in  times  of  doubt  ought  to  be  given  preference. 

The  conduct  of  a  man  is  morally  good  when  it 
tends  to  further  the  well-being  or  perfection  of  the 
agent  and  his  surroundings.  It  is,  on  the  other 
hand,  morally  reprehensible  when  it  lacks  this 
characteristic.  We  call  a  man  good  when  he  fash- 
ions his  own  life  in  accordance  with  the  ideal  of 
human  perfection,  and  the  same  time  furthers  the 
welfare  of  his  surroundings.  We  call  a  man  bad 
when  he  has  neither  the  will  nor  strength  to  do  any- 
thing towards  his  improvement  or  that  of  others, 
but  instead  disturbes  and  injures  his  surroundings. 

Darwin  reaches  a  similar  conclusion.  He 
examines  the  pleasure  theory  and  flatly  contradicts 
it.  Pleasure-pain,  he  concludes,  is  neither  the  motive 
nor  the  end  of  all  action.  I  quote  the  passage  in 
question : 

"In  the  case  of  the  lower  animals,  it  seems  much 
more  appropriate  to  speak  of  their  social  instincts 
as  having  developed  for  the  general  good  than  for 


HIGHEST    GOOD  21 

the  general  happiness  of  the  species.  The  term 
'general  good'  may  be  defined  as  the  rearing  of  the 
greatest  number  of  individuals  in  full  vigor  and 
health,  with  all  their  faculties  perfect,  under  the 
conditions  to  which  they  are  subject.  As  the  social 
instincts  both  of  man  and  the  lower  animals  have 
no  doubt  been  developed  by  nearly  the  same  steps, 
it  would  be  advisable,  if  found  practicable,  to  use 
the  same  definition  in  both  cases,  and  to  take  as  the 
standard  of  morality  the  general  good  or  welfare 
of  the  community,  rather  than  the  general  happiness. 

'Ts  it  good  for  me,  and  not  will  it  increase  my 
happiness  ?  The  word  improvement  carries  with  it 
the  idea  of  good,  or  betterment ;  the  word  happiness 
does  not.  In  fact,  it  carries  with  it  a  menace  to 
character,  else  why  did  the  old  school  of  stoic 
philosophers  come  into  existence,  and  later  the 
ascetics,  and  why  is  it  that  large  numbers  of  men 
and  women  have  called  pleasures,  particularly  social 
ones,  evil? 

'Tt  is  because  in  the  excitement  of  social  pleas- 
ures, work  and  duty  may  be  forgotten,  and  the 
strength  of  character  which  is  maintained  by  self- 
denying  struggle  may  be  lost." 

3— 


Relation  of  Ethics  and  Religion 

By  ethics  we  mean  the  science  of  character. 
Rehgion  has  so  many  definitions  we  do  not  know 
which  one  to  adopt,  but  all  design  to  express  our 
relations  and  duties  to  God. 

"If,  then,  I  ask  myself,"  says  Professor  Palmer, 
of  Harvard,  "whether,  as  a  fact,  a  man,  when  par- 
ticularly religious,  becomes  by  that  circumstance 
l>eculiarly  moral,  I  must  say  there  is  a  great  deal 
which  points  the  other  w^ay.  Our  first  question, 
then,  shall  be  whether,  when  a  man  is  peculiarly 
faithful  in  the  performance  of  his  special  work,  God 
is  naturally  in  all  his  thoughts.  It  seems  to  me  that, 
strangely  enough,  this  is  not  the  case.  Why  it  is 
not,  we  must  consider  hereafter.  But,  taking  actual 
occurrences  and  asking  ourselves  without  prejudice 
this  single  question,  I  believe  we  are  shut  up  to  a 
negative  answer. 

"Here  is  a  surgeon  engaged  in  his  perilous  art. 
The  slightest  divergence  of  the  knife  to  right  or  left 
will  have  serious  consequences.  While  performing 
this  special  task,  steering  that  knife  exactly  true, 
does  he  fill  his  mind  with  thoughts  of  God  and  seek 
to  lose  his  own  small  life  in  that  of  the  infinite  one  ? 
I  do  not  think  so.  It  would  be  disastrous  if  he  did. 
I  suspect  his  thoughts  can  hardly  travel  so  far  from 
his  knife  as  to  consider  even  the  poor  sufferer  before 
him.  I  doubt  if  he  greatly  pities  the  patient  before 
him  on  whom  he  is  engaged,  or  takes  much  satis- 
faction in  restoring  him  to  health. 

"Before  he  began  his  work,  he  may  have  had 

22 


J  RELATION    OF    ETHICS    AND    RELIGION      23 

compassionate  thoughts,  and  may  have  regarded 
himself  as  the  servant  of  God  in  conflict  with  hated 
disease  and  distress.  And  possibly  afterwards,  look- 
ing back  upon  his  work,  he  may  give  it  approval  and 
feel  that  God's  finger  directed  every  curve  of  the 
knife.  Both  of  the  two,  the  sense  of  special  duty 
and  the  sense  of  dependence  on  God,  may  well  exist 
in  the  same  person.  But  do  they  present  exactly  the 
same  point  of  view?  Does  he  who  is  thinking  of 
the  one  necessarily  think  of  the  other  ? 

"I  hold  that,  as  he  cuts,  he  may  wisely  exclude 
all  thought  of  both  God  and  his  neighbor,  being 
simply  a  surgeon  and  nothing  more.  He  requires  a 
certain  narrowing  of  his  vision,  a  certain  exclusion 
of  the  infinite  aspects  of  his  task,  in  order  to  perform 
that  task  well. 

''Somewhat  similar  conditions  will  be  found  in 
almost  every  exigency  of  life.  The  painter  eliciting 
beauty,  the  musician  eliciting  music,  must  be  impas- 
sioned for  beauty  and  music  and  for  nothing  else. 
If  the  artist  should  care  less  about  producing  beauty 
^nd  more  about  companionship  with  God,  he  might 
have  a  more  exalted  aim  than  the  seeker  after  colors. 
But  that  aim  will  not  make  him  a  good  artist.  When 
he  is  painting,  colors  and  lines  must  claim  him.  He, 
too,  has  need  of  narrowness  and  must  let  infinite 
things  alone.     Or  take  the  humbler  life. 

''When  the  carpenter  drives  his  nail,  is  he  not 
thinking  simply  of  the  straight  course  of  that  nail 
and  nothing  else?  He  cannot  at  such  moments 
meditate  on  divine  commands.  I  grant  he  will  be  a 
poor  carpenter  if  sometime  in  his  Mfe  he  has  not 
asked  himself,  what  is  his  place  in  God's  kingdom; 
and  has  not  seen  that  to  drive  nails  straight  to  do 
thorough  carpentery  is  the  best  service  he  can  offer. 
These  are  wise  thoughts  for  seasons  of  leisure.  But 
they  interfere  with  work  when  driving  nails.  I 
should  advise  him  to  withdraw  his  attention  from 


24      RHLATION    Of    ETHICS    AND    RlilJGlON 

the  Most  High.  The  case  is  the  same  in  all  life's 
operations.  The  particular  thing  before  us  demands 
a  narrowed  attention." 

'T  think,  too,  we  must  have  been  struck  with  the 
fact  that  many  persons  whose  characters  are  excel- 
lent and  for  whom  we  have  great  reverence,  seem 
to  get  along  pretty  well  without  much  consciousness 
of  God.  Few  persons  in  my  own  world  have  seemed 
more  worthy  of  honor  than  my  old  nurse,"  says 
Professor  Palmer,  from  whose  writings  I  have  so 
far  extracted  this  paper.  ''She  brought  me  up, 
and  to  her  I  owe  almost  as  much  as  to  my  own 
mother.  She  always  impressed  me  as  doubtless  the 
greatest  saint  I  knew,  so  devoid  of  selfishness,  so 
intent  on  cheerful  and  intelligent  service.  But  she 
had  little  time  for  communion  with  God,  and  did 
not,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  suffer  from  the  lack.  She 
was  too  much  occupied  with  seeing  whether  I  had 
proper  stickings  on,  with  contriving  how  to  quiet  my 
petulance  and  get  my  dinner  ready  at  the  right  min- 
ute, to  be  much  concerned  with  her  soul  or  its  rela- 
tion to  God.     She  simply  went  about  her  work." 

Most  of  us  have  had  similar  experiences,  and 
some  of  us  have  been  a  good  deal  puzzled  by  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  of  us  have  known  per- 
sons who  struck  us  as  extremely  religious,  but  whom 
we  should  not  have  been  quite  willing  to  trust.  Their 
religious  emotons  were  a  good  deal  divorced  from 
moral  responsibility.  The  newspapers  are  fond  of 
reporting  such  cases  and  telling  how  the  defaulting 
cashier  was  superintendent  of  a  Sunday  school.  The 
negro  on  his  way  home  from  prayer  meeting  stops 
to  3teal  a  chicken  from  the  roost.  Supposing  the 
newspapers  do  not  exaggerate,  and  that  our  own 
experience  supplies  corroborative  cases,  a  simple 
explanation  is  ready.  Since  everybody  assumes  the 
close  connection  of  morality  and  religion,  immoral 
men  put  on  a  religious  cloak. 


RELATION    OF    ETHICS    AND    RELIGION      25 

This  does  not  show  that  the  devout  and  the 
natural  are  independent  matters,  for  the  defauher 
was  not  really  devout.  He  was  only  pretending  to 
be.  Had  he  been  so,  he  would  have  felt  the  incon- 
gruity of  his  evil  act.  This  explanation  is  undoubt- 
edly sufficient  for  most  men,  and  it  is  difficult  to 
show  that  it  is  untrue,  but  it  seems  to  me  improbably 
easy.  Our  instructor  means  to  say  he  was  devout, 
and  that  is  a  more  rational  explanation  than  to  say 
he  was  a  hypocrite. 

I  do  not  find  hypocrites  so  common.  It  requires 
a  high  degree  of  abstenance  and  self-denial  to  make 
a  first-class  hypocrite — that  is,  a  man  who  will 
steadily  consent  not  to  lead  his  own  life.  To  most 
of  us  our  life  is  precious.  We  want  to  utter  the 
thing  that  is  in  our  own  minds,  and  not  go  through 
the  world  playing  a  part  for  which  we  do  not  care. 
In  the  long  run,  this  requires  too  much  constraint 
and  too  much  skill.  Momentary  pretenses  we  all 
slip  into;  but  these  are  very  unlike  the  coherent 
hypocracies  which  the  present  explanation  requires. 
These  are  surely  of  rarer  ocurrence  than  the  wrong- 
doings of  the  devout. 

'T  cannot  fail  to  see  that  a  good  many  persons 
are,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  sincerely  religious,  when 
not  quite  responsive  to  the  demands  of  the  natural 
code.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  find  this  true  of 
myself,"  so  says  Professor  Palmer.  "At  my  times 
of  greatest  religious  exaltation,"  says  he,  "small 
duties  do  not  appeal  to  me  most  urgently.  There 
seems  to  be  a  kind  of  separation,  as  if  there  were 
something  in  the  nature  of  religious  emotion,  which 
removed  me  from  earthly  duties.  When  the  relig- 
ious impulse  is  strongest,'  I  am  obliged  to  be  espe- 
cially careful  if  I  would  not  be  blind  to  the  plain 
duties  of  the  day. 

"I  am  much  mistaken  if  the  experience  of  other 
people  does  not  confirm  mine.    These  considerations 


26     KiiL.inux   ui-   urines  .ixo  rbugion 

seem  to  show  that  however  close  the  two  fields  are, 
religion  and  morality,  they  are  still  distinct. 

"But  I  feel  that  here,  far  more  than  in  any  other 
case,  it  is  difficult  to  mark  the  separation.  As  a  fact, 
we  have  seen  they  differ.  Why  and  in  what  respects 
we  must  now  try  to  discover." 

The  point  of  view  is  different,  that  is  all.  With 
one  it  is  God\vard,  with  the  other  it  is  manw^ard.  In 
other  words,  one  commences  with  God,  while  the 
other  commences  with  man. 

His  view  is  manward ;  the  religious  view  is 
Godward.  This  contrast  is  fundamental.  Every- 
where the  religious  soul  seeks  after  God  as  all  in  all. 
We  are  of  no  consequence. 

Ethics  has  always  looked  at  the  matter  in  an 
entirely  different  way.  While  accepting  the  eternal 
as  that  which  alone  possesses  infinite  worth,  the 
moral  mind  has  asserted  that  it,  too,  possesses  a 
\vorth.  The  statement  is  presumptuous,  but  life 
could  not  go  on  without  it.  I  have  my  little  world 
to  guide,  my  bread  must  be  earned,  my  clothes  kept 
clean,  my  hungry  neighbor  fed.  These  are  small 
acts,  but  they  are  worth  while ;  indeed,  they  call  for 
my  best  thought.  These  things  I  consider  as 
of  such  worth  that  eternal  realties  are  regarded  only 
as  they  furnish  strength  and  order  to  these. 

Here,  then,  ethics  diverges  from  religion  and 
takes  its  independent  path.  It  studies  infinite  prin- 
ciples so  far  as  they  receive  a  finite  expression.  That 
finite  expression  is  the  one  important  matter. 

This  divergence  will  explain  some  of  the  strange 
suggestions  just  made.  I  said  that  I  thought  I  had 
observed  that  the  attitudes  of  the  moral  and  religious 
man  are  not  merely  unlike,  but  that  there  is  a  cer- 
tain conflict  between  the  two.  The  reason  of  this 
will  be  apparent  now. 

When  attention  is  turned  in  one  of  these  direc- 
tions,   it   is   to   some   degree   withdrawn   from   the 


RELATION    OF    ETHICS    AND    RELIGION      27 

other.  I  cannot  at  the  same  moment  be  conceiving 
of  God  as  the  only  being  of  worth,  and  yet  of  my 
hfe — this  fragmentary  life- — as  itself  a  matter  of 
worth.  I  alternate.  Now  as  a  religious  man,  I  lay 
chief  stress  on  the  one ;  Now  as  a  moral  man  on  the 
other.  Most  certainly  the  two  are  inextricably 
involved.  They  cannot  be  sundered,  but  only  dis- 
tinguished by  the  degree  of  attention.  The  two 
fields  are  supplementary,  though  attention  is  pre- 
dominantly given  to  one  or  the  other. 

It  might  well  be  asked  which  is  the  proper  order 
of  acceptance?  When  we  awake  to  a  consciousness 
of  the  construction  of  our  lives,  with  the  life  of  the 
whole,  and  see  that  it  is  incumbent  on  us  to  serve 
that  whole  while  still  serving  ourselves  and  our 
imperfect  fellow  men,  to  which  side  of  the  complex 
demand  shall  we  primarily  address  ourselves?  Shall 
we  say  we  cannot  be  moral  men  until  we  have 
become  religious,  or  that  we  cannot  become  religious 
until  we  have  become  moral?  Is  not  the  proper 
order  first  the  large,  with  progression  through  that 
large  to  the  small  ? 

I  cannot  think  so,  so  says  Professor  Palmer. 
To  my  mind,  the  reverse  is  more  nearly  the  normal 
order.  We  move  best  from  small  moral  matters  up 
to  the  larger  religious  ones.  Hence  while  the  two 
are  interdependent,  it  does  appear  to  me  that  the 
chief  stress  of  attention  is  primarily  demanded  by 
the  moral  side. 

The  fact  is  that  the  road  down — the  path  from 
the  universal  to  the  particular,  from  a  general  prin- 
ciple to  its  applications,  from  an  including  law  to 
the  special  fact  included  under  it — is  always 
peculiarly  treacherous  and  confusing. 

The  road  up  is  man's  natural  path,  the  road 
which  runs  from  particular  objects  and  events  to 
their  including  law.     Allegiance  to  God  does  not 


28       Kl'.LATlOX    OP    liTlllCS    AX  D    RiSLIGION 

disclose  whal  particular  acl  any  given  instant 
demands. 

First,  that  which  is  natural,  then  that,  which  is 
spiritual. 

All  will  agree  that  large  considerations  are  apt 
to  be  vague.  When  we  lose  ourselves  in  the  thought 
of  God,  we  often  find  that  we  have  indeed  lost  our- 
selves; that  we  have  become  insensitive  to  the  world 
we  inhabit,  and  are  in  danger  of  becoming  oblivious 
to  its  duties.  When  full  of  the  thought  of  God,  it 
is  not  impossible  to  allow  a  room  to  go  dusty,  a  bill 
to  remain  unpaid.  Not  impossible!  It  is  danger- 
ously natural.  We  shall  be  wise  to  warn  ourselves 
when  thoughts  of  God  are  so  dear  and  uplifting, 
that  we  must  watch  the;  little  world  which  lies 
around  us  and  not,  because  of  devoutness,  neglect 
to  hear  its  needy  calls. 

We  do  not  say  that  ethics  leads  to  religion, 
although  they  are  apt  to  do  so;  yet  we  know  of 
ethically  minded  men  who  are  even  atheists.  On 
the  other  hand,  religion  does  not  necessarily  lead  to 
ethics,  as  shown  in  the  paper.  The  safer  way  is 
from  ethics  to  religion,  from  nature  to  nature's  God, 
as  would  seem  from  the  following  passage :  'Tf 
man  loves  not  his  brother  whom  he  has  seen,  how 
shall  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen?" 

And  then  again,  the  worthlessness  of  religion 
without  ethics  is  shown  by  the  words  of  the  last 
judgment,  wherein  the  Lord  says  to  the  non-ethical : 
"I  was  ahungered  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat,  I  was 
thirsty  and  ye  gave  me  no  drink,  sick  and  in  prison 
and  ye  visited  me  not.  Then  shall  He  say,  as  ye 
did  it  not  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  ye  did  it 
not  to  me." 

When  seeking  to  embody  righteousness  in  petty 
acts,  we  justly  regard  ourselves  as  representing  God 
under  finite  conditions.  Morality  fulfills  itself  in 
religion,  even  though  its  gaze  is  directed  manward 


RELATION    OF    ETHICS    AND    RELIGION      29 

rather  than  Gcxiward.  Kant  defines  reHgion  as 
morality  viewed  as  a  divine  command.  From  this 
it  would  appear  that  the  ethical  road  to  God  is  by 
all  odds  the  safer  route.  At  the  same  time,  either 
approach  to  God,  whether  by  the  ethical  or  spiritual 
route,  is  doubtless  better  than  no  approach  at  all. 
I  make  my  acknowledgments  to  Professor  Palmer 
for  much  of  the  material  of  this  paper. 


Healthy  Mindedness 

By  the  term  optimism  we  mean  the  doctrine  that 
everything  in  nature  is  ordered  for  the  best.  By 
the  word  pessimism  we  mean  the  opposite — that  is, 
that  there  is  more  evil  than  good  in  nature.  I  will 
quote  from  J.  S.  Mills,  a  noted  English  author,  to 
show  that  there  are  grounds  for  this  latter  opinion. 
Says  he,  in  speaking  of  the  forces  of  nature : 

*'The  quality  that  most  forcibly  strikes  everyone 
is  their  perfect  and  absolute  recklessness.  Pope's 
'Shall  gravitation  cease  when  you  go  by?'  may  be 
a  just  rebuke  to  anyone  who  should  be  so  silly  as 
to  expect  human  morality  from  nature.  A  man  who 
should  persist  in  hurling  stones,  or  firing  a  cannon 
when  another  goes  by,  and  having  killed  him,  should 
urge  a  similar  plea  in  exculpation,  would  very 
deservedly  be  found  guilty  of  murder. 

"In  sol)er  truth,  nearly  all  of  the  things  which 
we  are  hanged  or  imprisoned  for  doing  to  one 
another  are  nature's  every-day  performances. 

"Killing,  the  most  criminal  act  recognized  by 
human  laws,  nature  does  once  to  every  being  that 
lives;  in  our  natural  death.  ^N'ature  impales  men, 
breaks  them  as  if  on  the  wheel,  causes  them  to  be 
devoured  by  wild  beasts,  burns  them  to  death, 
crushes  them  with  stones,  starves  them  with  hunger, 
freezes  them  with  cold,  poisons  them  by  the  quick 
or  slow  venom  of  her  exhalations,  and  has  hundreds 
of  other  hideous  deaths  in  reserve.  All  this  nature 
does  with  the  most  supercilious  disregard  both  of 
mercy  and  of  justice,  emptying  her  shafts  upon  the 

30 


HEALTHY    MINDBDNBSS  31 

best  and  noblest  indifferently  with  the  meanest  and 
worst.  She  mows  down  those  on  whose  existence 
hangs  the  well-being  of  a  whole  people  with  as  little 
compunction  as  those  whose  death  is  a  relief  to 
themselves.      Such  are  nature's  dealings  with  life. 

"Next  to  taking  life,  is  taking  the  means  by 
which  we  live,  and  nature  does  this,  too,  on  the 
largest  scale  and  with  the  most  callous  indifference. 
A  single  hurricane  destroys  the  hopes  of  a  season; 
a  flight  of  locusts  or  an  inundation  desolates  a  dis- 
trict; a  trifling  chemical  change  in  an  edible  root 
starves  a  million  people. 

''The  waves  of  the  sea  seize  and  appropriate  the 
wealth  of  the  rich  and  the  little  all  of  the  poor. 
Everything,  in  short,  which  the  worst  men  commit 
either  against  life  or  property  is  perpetrated  on  a 
large  scale  by  natural  agents. 

''Her  explosions  of  fire  damp  are  as  destructive 
as  human  artillery;  her  plague  and  cholera  surpass 
the  most  poisonous  cups.  Even  the  love  of  order, 
which  is  thought  to  be  a  following  in  the  ways  of 
nature,  is  in  fact  a  contradiction  of  them. 

"Anarchy  and  the  reign  of  terror  are  over- 
matched in  injustice,  ruin  and  death  by  a  hurricane 
and  a  pestilence. 

"But  it  is  said  all  these  things  are  for  wise  and 
good  ends.  Whether  they  are  or  not  is  altogether 
beside  the  point." 

The  only  admissable  theory  of  these  things  is 
that  the  principle  of  good  cannot  at  once  and 
altogether  subdue  the  powers  of  evil,  either  physical 
or  moral, — could  not  place  mankind  in  a  world  free 
from  the  necessity  of  an  incessant  struggle  with  the 
maleficient  powers  or  make  them  always  victorious 
in  that  struggle,  but  could  and  did  make  them 
capable  of  carrying  on  the  fight  with  vigor  and 
progressively  increasing  success. 

According  to  this  theory,  man's  duty  would  con- 


32  IIIi.lLTIiy    MINDUDNBSS 

sist  in  standing  forward,  a  not  ineffectual  aid  and 
heli)er  to  a  being  of  perfect  benelicence. 

It  would  appear,  then,  that  those  who  see  in  the 
nature  of  things  ground  for  pessimism  do  so  because 
they  do  not  look  deep  enough.  They  do  not  allow 
sufficient  importance  to  the  element  of  time,  or  to 
human  agency  in  coming  to  the  rescue,  and  helping 
to  make  this  earth  a  better  world  for  man  to  live  in. 
The  imperfections  of  the  world  come  from  the  nar- 
row vision  of  men,  so  says  Walt  Whitman. 

I  am  an  optimist,  not  an  unreasonable  one.  By 
an  unreasonable  one,  I  mean  a  man  who  refuses  to 
entertain  considerations  of  evil  at  all,  who  ignores 
all  evil.  In  the  first  place,  pessimists  make  a  mis- 
take in  regarding  death  as  always  a  curse.  Com- 
pared to  the  infirmities  of  extreme  old  age,  it  is 
seen  to  be  a  blessing.  As  far  as  natural  evils  are 
concerned,  man  can  do  much  to  prevent  or  amelior- 
ate them.  By  draining  swamps  he  can  prevent 
malarial  disease,  he  can  do  much  to  prevent  small- 
pox, plague,  cholera  and  yellow  fever.  He  can 
insure  his  crops  and  buildings. 

As  to  evils  of  human  origin,  by  giving  them 
some  consideration,  they  may  be  many  times  averted 
entirely.  If  not  averted,  can  be  mitigated.  Any- 
way, by  giving  them  some  forethought  we  are  pre- 
pared for  them, — prepared  to  act  when  occasion 
requires,  and  are  not  paralyzed  by  their  unexpected 
occurrence.  Giving  thought  to  such  matters  helps 
to  fortify  our  characters. 

Savages  do  not  look  ahead  for  good  or  evil,  and 
by  adopting  unreasonable  optimistic  view^s  we  are 
going  backward  instead  of  advancing. 

It  is  said  by  reflecting  upon  evil  we  favor  melan- 
choly moods.  What  of  it?  Melancholy  has  its 
advantages,  and  some  people  rather  like  it. 

I  know  not  to  what  physical  laws  philosophers 
wnll   some   day   refer   the   feelings   of   melancholy. 


HEALTHY    MINDBDNBSS  33 

"For  myself,"  so  writes  Saint  Perre,  ''I  find  that 
they  are  most  voluptuous  of  all  sensations." 

''It  is  a  general  rule,"  so  writes  Professor 
Royce,  of  Harvard,  "of  the  two  morbidly  emotional 
moods,  the  cheerfully  morbid  is  likely  to  prove 
worse  than  the  painfully  morbid.  False  despair  is 
more  benign  than  false  confidence  or  than  vain- 
glory." 

In  giving  forethought  to  evil,  we  should  not 
give  fearthought,  or  worry,  to  them,  as  Professor 
James,  also  of  Harvard,  says,  for  there  is  a  distinc- 
tion. In  worry,  the  endless  question  is  what  shall 
I  do?  In  his  despair  he  tries  to  prevent  all  acts, 
until  a  saving  plan  shall  appear.  But  let  the  dreaded 
calamity  over  which  he  worried  befall  him,  and  he 
becomes  cool,  and  may  bear  the  worst  so  much 
more  easily  than  he  could  the  uncertainty  of  worry. 

Worry  should  not  be  confounded  with  restless- 
ness, as  the  latter  is  a  result  of  accumulated  bodily 
energy,  and  may  be  present  when  the  subject  is 
happy.  It  leads  to  action,  whereas  worry  too  fre- 
quently paralyses  action. 

That  there  is  such  a  thing  as  healthy-mindedness 
in  such  matters,  I  think  a  quotation  from  Professor 
James,  before  mentioned,  will  show : 

"We  give  the  name  healthy-mindedness  to  the 
tendency  which  looks  on  all  things  and  sees  that 
they  are  good.  We  find,"  says  he,  "we  must  dis- 
tinguish between  a  more  involuntary  and  a  more 
voluntary  or  systematic  way  of  being  healthy- 
minded.  In  its  involuntary  variety,  healthy- 
mindedness  is  a  way  of  feeling  happy  about  things 
immediately.  In  its  systematical  variety,  it  is  an 
abstract  way  of  conceiving  things  as  good. 

"Systematic  healthy-mindedness,  deliberately 
excludes  as  evil  from  its  field  of  vision,  and 
although,  when  thus  nakedly  stated,  this  might  be 
a  difficult  feat  to  perform   for  one  who   is   intel- 


:u  HliALTUY    MISDEDNESS 

Icctually  sincere  with  himself  and  honest  about 
facts,  a  httle  reflection  shows  that  the  situation  is 
too  complex  to  lie  open  to  so  simple  a  criticism. 

"In  the  first  place,  happiness,  like  every  other 
emotional  state,  has  blindness  and  insensil)ility  to 
opposing  facts  given  it,  as  its  instinctive  weapon  for 
self-protection  against  disturbance. 

''When  happiness  is  actually  in  possession,  the 
thought  of  evil  can  no  more  acquire  the  feeling  of 
reality  than  the  thought  of  good  can  gain  reality 
when  melancholy  rules." 

To  the  man  actively  happy,  from  whatever 
cause,  evil  simply  cannot  then  and  there  be  believed 
in.  He  must  ignore  it,  and  to  the  by-stander  he 
may  then  seem  perversely  to  shut  his  eyes  to  it  and 
hush  it  up. 

But  more  than  this :  The  hushing  of  it  up  may 
in  a  perfectly  candid  and  honest  mind,  grow  into 
a  deliberate  policy. 

Aluch  of  what  we  call  evil  is  due  entirely  to  the 
way  men  take  the  phenomenan.  It  can  so  often  ht 
converted  into  a  bracing  and  tonic  good,  by  a  simple 
change  of  the  sufferer's  inner  attitude,  from  one  of 
fear  to  one  of  fight;  its  sting  so  often  departs 
and  turns  into  a  relish  when  after  vainly  seeking  to 
shun  it,  we  agree  to  face  about  and  bear  it  cheer- 
fully, that  a  man  is  simply  bound  in  honor,  with 
reference  to  many  of  the  facts  that  seem  at  first  to 
disconcert  his  peace,  to  adopt  this  way  of  escape. 
Refuse  to  admit  their  badness,  despise  their  power, 
ignore  their  presence,  turn  your  attention  the  other 
way,  and  so  far  as  you  yourself  are  concerned  at 
any  rate,  though  the  facts  may  still  exist,  their  evil 
character  exists  no  longer.  Since  you  make  them 
evil  or  good  by  your  own  thoughts  about  them,  it 
is  the  ruling  of  your  own  thoughts  which  proves  to 
be  your  principal  concern. 

''The  deliberate  adoption  of  an  optimistic  turn  of 


HEALTHY    MINDBDNBSS  35 

mind  thus  makes  its  entrance  into  philosophy.  And 
once  in,  it  is  hard  to  trace  its  lawful  bounds.  Not 
only  does  the  human  instinct  for  happiness,  bent  on 
self-protection  by  ignoring,  keep  working  in  its 
favor,  but  higher  inner  ideals  have  weighty  words 
to  say.  The  attitude  of  unhappiness  is  not  only 
painful — it  is  mean  and  ugly.  What  can  be  more 
base  and  unworthy  than  the  pining,  puling,  mourn- 
ful mood,  no  matter  by  what  outward  ills  it  may 
have  been  engendered.  What  is  more  injurious  to 
others?  What  is  less  helpful  as  a  way  out  of  the 
difficulty?  It  but  fastens  and  perpetuates  the  trou- 
ble which  occasioned  it,  and  increases  the  total  evil 
of  the  situation.  At  all  costs,  then,  we  ought  to 
reduce  the  sway  of  that  mood;  we  ought  to  scout 
it  in  ourselves  and  others,  and  never  show  it 
tolerance. 

''But  it  is  impossible  to  carry  on  this  discipline  in 
the  subjective  sphere  without  zealously  emphasizing 
the  brighter  and  minimizing  the  darker  aspect  of 
the  objective  sphere  of  things  at  the  same  time.  And 
thus  our  resolution  not  to  indulge  in  misery,  begin- 
ning at  a  comparatively  small  point  within  our- 
selves, may  not  stop  until  it  has  brought  the  entire 
frame  of  reality  under  a  systematic  conception 
optimistic  enough  to  be  congenial  with  its  needs. 
In  fact,  we  all  do  cultivate  healthy-mindedness  more 
or  less,  even  when  our  professed  theology  should  in 
consistency  forbid  it.  We  divert  our  attention  from 
disease  and  death  as  much  ,as  we  can ;  and  the 
slaughter-houses  and  indecencies  without  end  on 
which  our  life  is  founded  are  huddled  out  of  sight 
and  never  mentioned,  so  that  the  world  we  recog- 
nize is  far  handsomer  and  cleaner  and  better  than 
the  world  that  really  is." 

"The  world  is  too  full  of  sadness  and  sorrow, 
misery  and  sickness;  it  needs  more  sunshine;  it 
needs  cheerful  lives  which  radiate  gladness ;   it  needs 


36  HEALTHY    MINDEDNBSS 

cncouragers  who  will  lift  and  not  l)car  down,  who 
will  encourage,  not  discourage. 

*'\Vho  can  estimate  the  value  (^f  a  sunny  soul 
who  scatters  gladness  and  good  cheer  wherever  he 
goes,  instead  of  gloom  and  sadness?  Everybody  is 
attracted  to  these  cheerful  faces  and  sunny  lives,  and 
repelled  by  the  gloomy,  the  morose  and  the  sad.  We 
en\y  people  who  radiate  cheer  wherever  they  go  and 
fling  out  gladness  from  every  pore.  Money,  houses 
and  lands  look  contemptible  beside  such  a  disposi- 
tion. The  ability  to  radiate  sunshine  is  a  greater 
power  than  beauty,  or  than  mere  mental  accomplish- 
ments." 

The  theory  of  evolution  comes  to  the  aid  of 
healthy-mindedness.  I  want  to  say  here,  that  this 
doctrine  does  not  deny  the  existence  of  God,  nor  is 
it  inconsistent  with  Christianity,  as  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  many  ministers  of  the  gospel  are  evo- 
lutionists. It  simply  shows  that  the  work  of  crea- 
tion is  still  going  on,  and  indicates  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  going  on. 

According  to  many  writers  on  the  doctrine  of 
evolution,  the  struggle  for  existence  is  such  a  war 
of  nature,  so  vast  and  cruel  as  to  be  revolting  to  our 
instincts,  and  has  proven  a  stumbling-block  in  the 
way  of  those  who  would  gladly  believe  in  an  all-wise 
and  benevolent  ruler  of  the  universe.  Thus  a  bril- 
liant writer  says:  'Tain,  grief,  disease  and  death 
— are  these  the  inventions  of  a  living  God?  That  no 
animal  shall  rise  to  excellence  except  by  being  fatal 
to  others — is  this  the  law  of  a  kind  Creator  ?"  Even 
so  thoughtful  a  writer  as  Professor  Huxley  adopts 
similar  views.  In  a  recent  article  on  'The  Struggle 
For  Existence,"  he  concludes  that,  since  thousands 
of  times  a  minute,  were  our  ears  sharp  enough,  we 
should  hear  sighs  and  groans  of  pain  like  those 
heard  by  Dante  at  the  gate  of  hell,  the  world  cannot 
be  governed  by  what  we  call  benevolence. 


HEALTHY    MINDEDNESS  37 

Now,  there  is,  I  think,  good  reason  to  beheve 
that  all  this  is  greatly  exaggerated;  that  the  sup- 
posed torments  and  miseries  of  animals,  for 
instance,  has  little  real  existence.  So  says  Mr. 
Alfred  Wallace,  a  renowned  evolutionist;  but  that' 
they  are  the  reflection  of  the  imagined  sensations  of 
cultured  men  and  women  in  similar  circumstances, 
and  that  the  amount  of  actual  suffering  caused  by 
the  struggle  for  existence  among  animals  is 
altogether  insignificant.  In  the  first  place,  we  must 
remember  that  animals  are  entirely  spared  the  pain 
we  suffer  in  the  anticipation  of  death — a  pain  far 
greater,  in  most  cases,  than  the  reality.  This  leads, 
probably,  to  an  almost  perpetual  enjoyment  of  their 
lives;  since  their  constant  watchfulness  against 
danger,  and  even  their  actual  flight  from  an  enemy, 
will  be  the  enjoyable  exercise  of  their  powers  and 
faculties,  unmixed  in  most  cases  with  any  serious 
dread.  The  daily  search  for  food  employs  all  their 
faculties  and  exercises  every  organ  of  their  bodies, 
while  their  exercise  leads  to  the  satisfaction  of 
their  physical  needs.  We  can  give  no  more  perfect 
definition  of  happiness  of  which  they  are  capable. 
A  violent  and  sudden  death  is  in  every  way  the  best 
for  the  animal. 

What  really  the  struggle  for  existence  brings 
about  for  the  animal  kingdom  is  the  maximum  of 
life  and  enjoyment  of  life  with  the  minimum  of 
suffering  and  pain.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  a  sys- 
tem by  w^hich  a  greater  balance  of  happiness  could 
have  been  secured  than  by  the  struggle  for 
existence. 

The  same  is  true  of  the  struggle  for  existence 
among  men.  It  gives  him  something  to  do,  some- 
thing to  live  for.  Were  it  not  for  this,  there  would 
be  an  insufficient  motive  to  arouse  him,  to  sharpen 
his  energies  and  give  him  impulses  to  exert  himself 
to  his  capacity.     Were  it  not  for  this  struggle,  life 

4- 


38  HEALTHY    MINDBDNBSS 

would  lack  something  that  could  not  be  otherwise 
supplied.  From  this  arises  occasions  for  exercising 
his  bodily  and  mental  powers  and  faculties  and  for 
alternately  resting  the  same.  If  these  be  the  ele- 
ments of  happiness,  if  alternate  exercise  and  rest 
be  the  bread  and  butter  of  happiness,  as  we  are  sure 
they  arc,  why  should  we  not  be  happy  every  moment 
of  our  normal  lives,  sickness  and  dread  excepted. 

The  dread  of  death  does  much  to  take  away  our 
happiness,  this  dread  being  worse  than  death  itself; 
for  death  is  generally  painless,  consciousness  depart- 
ing generally  quite  a  time  before  death  supervenes. 
I  have  seen  many  die,  and  know  that  the  impure 
blood  which  results  from  the  failing  organs  of  the 
body  in  approaching  death  intoxicates  and  stupifies 
the  mind  so  that  one  is  dead  before  he  knows  that 
he  is  dying.  ^^^hy,  then,  should  sinking  into  a 
peaceful  rest  be  attended  with  dread. 

The  old  heathen  philosophers  used  to  long  to 
pass  away  and  be  at  rest. 

The  reason,  then,  why  we  are  not  happier  than 
we  are  is  because  we  do  not  understand  the  secret. 
That  secret  is  that  the  exercise  of  our  muscles  and 
faculties  within  reason  and  alternate  rest  are  the 
simple  elements  of  happiness.  Hence,  whatever 
leads  to  or  enforces  such  exercise  ought  to  make 
normal  creatures  enjoy  life. 

Do  not  look  too  high  for  beatific  pleasures,  but 
look  for  enjoyment  in  every-day  activities,  and  you 
\v\\\  find  them,  just  as  the  animal  kingdom  does, 
only  higher,  just  in  proportion  as  your  faculties  are 
higher. 

This  is  evolution  and  contributes  to  healthy- 
mindedness.  In  the  theory  of  evolution,  which, 
gathering  momentum  for  a  century,  has  within  the 
last  twenty-five  years  swept  over  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica, we  see  the  ground  laid  for  a  new  sort  of  healthy- 
mindedness.    The  idea  of  a  universal  evolution  lends 


HEALTHY    MINDBDNESS  39 

itself  to  a  general  betterment  and  progress,  so  well 
that  it  seems  almost  as  if  it  might  have  been  created 
for  this  purpose. 

This  doctrine,  like  Darwinism,  made  little 
advance  at  first.  It  was  thought  to  be  atheistic  in 
its  effects.  When  Darwinism  was  found  not  to  be 
so,  it  spread  greatly,  so  that  now  there  is  scarcely 
one  who  deserves  the  name  of  scientist  who  is  not 
an  advocate  of  that  doctrine. 

The  man  who  gave  a  greater  impetus  to  evolution 
than  any  other  was  Herbert  Spencer.  He  intro- 
duced it  into  almost  everything  he  wrote  about,  and 
it  should  be  remembered  that  he  was  an  extensive 
author.  Today  a  belief  in  that  doctrine  is  becoming 
more  and  more  widespread  among  intelligent  people, 
because  it  is  found  it  does  not  do  away  with  a 
creator.  It  shows  that  it  is  the  way  the  diety  oper- 
ates in  nature. 

Spencer  introduced  this  theory  into  the  forma- 
tion of  the  planets,  carrying  out  the  ideas  of  such 
men  as  Kant,  Laplace  and  Hershel,  making  it  much 
more  extensive.  He  introduced  it  into  the  formation 
of  plants  and  animals  on  earth,  and  into  the  develop- 
ment of  man,  his  physical,  mental  and  moral  nature ; 
even  into  his  religion. 

The  gist  of  this  doctrine  is  that  all  things  are 
growing  better,  more  perfect.  What  a  welcome 
doctrine  this  is.  How  eagerly  it  ought  to  be  em- 
braced, and  how  much  comfort  it  ought  to  afford 
to  the  noble-minded.  One  reason  why  it  is  believed 
in  is  that  it  is  manifest  upon  close  observation. 

It  is  true  that  spiritual  impulses  and  conceptions 
and  undertakings  do  not  run  so  exckisively  along 
the  old  hallowed  and  familiar  ways  of  religion,  yet 
the  spirit  of  man  has  waxed  as  strong  in  our  time 
as  has  his  hand,  and  has  given  itself  to  works  as 
•mighty  and  as  influential.     There  is  no  doubt  the 


40  HEALTHY    MINDEDNESS 

world  shall  be  saved  by  the  courage  of  action  and 
the  satisfying  nobility  of  unimpeachable  conduct. 

It  is  true  the  theory  of  evolution  encourages  no 
millenium  in  our  day,  yet  if  for  millions  of  years 
our  globe  has  been  on  the  upward  road,  sometime 
the  summit  will  be  reached. 

\\'hatever  any  kind  of  religion  may  add  in  con- 
firmation of  this  theory,  is  that  much  in  favor  of 
that  religion. 


Pessimism  and  Optimism 

In  the  first  place,  what  is  pessimism?  It  is  the 
doctrine  that  this  world  is  the  worst  possible. 
Schopenhauer  taught  that  this  is  the  worst  of  all 
possible  worlds  and  inferred  that  sleep  is  better  than 
waking,  and  death  than  sleep — and  the  talent  in  the 
world  cannot  save  it  from  being  odious.  Pessimism 
is  the  tendency  to  exaggerate  in  thought  the  evils 
of  life  or  to  look  only  upon  its  dark  side.  Says  one, 
"a  genuine  pessimist  should  go  and  drown  himself 
as  the  practical  outcome  of  his  belief;  if  he  does 
not,  it  is  because,  in  spite  of  the  theory,  he  finds  life 
tolerable — and  if  for  him,  why  may  it  not  be  for 
his  fellows?"  The  formula  of  pessimism  is  or 
ought  to  be,  that  this  is  the  worst  of  all  possible 
worlds,  and  therefore  let  each  of  us  get  out  of  it. 
But  men  sometimes  manage  to  hold  a  creed  without 
realizing  its  consequences  in  their  imagination. 

Schopenhauer,  the  great  apostle  of  pessimism,  so 
far  as  he  was  sincere  and  consistent,  was  so  in 
virtue  of  his  coldness  of  heart,  the  "luminous  selfish- 
ness" which  guided  him  through  life.  He  was  never 
guilty  of  really  associating  with  anybody,  we  are 
told.  In  fact,  Schopenhauer,  as  later  found  out, 
was  an  insane  man,  and  it  is  no  wonder,  as  his  doc- 
trine was  enough  to  run  him  or  anyone  else  crazy. 

Browning  has  been  classed  wrongly  as  a  pessi- 
mist. That  he  should  be  called  such  seems  wonder- 
ful. To  recognize  the  force  of  circumstance  and 
the  fatality  of  chance  in  the  life  of  man,  the 
irretrievableness  of  his  mistakes,   his  capacity  for 


42  PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM 

suffering,  the  possibility  of  his  deepest  joys  trans- 
form themselves  into  his  most  poignant  griefs,  the 
frustration  of  hope  and  the  heart-sickness  of  unful- 
filled desire — to  see  and  feel  all  this  does  not  make 
a  man  a  pessimist.  Browning's  world,  it  is  true, 
is  not  made  up  of  saints  and  heroes,  but  of  strug- 
gling, sinning,  sorrowing  men  and  women;  yet  in 
his  creed  they  have  always  the  power  to  erect 
themselves  above  themselves.  The  infinite  nature 
of  human  spirit,  Browning  tells  us,  again  and  again 
is  the  source  of  man's  earthly  sorrows  and  joys,  his 
aspiration  and  progress,  present  imperfection  and 
ultimate  perfectibility. 

The  next  writer  to  whom  we  will  devote  atten- 
tion is  Mallock,  who  wrote  greatly  against  optimism 
of  a  certain  kind.  He  claimed  that  human  progress 
does  not  argue  in  favor  of  optimism,  but  we  shall 
see  later  that,  in  a  certain  sense  of  the  word,  it  does. 
If  optimism  means  that  the  world  is  already  perfect, 
then  the  progress  of  man  cannot  favor  it,  but  we 
shall  see  that,  in  our  understanding  of  the  word,  it 
means  no  such  thing. 

His  strongest  arguments,  however,  were  against 
the  religion  of  humanity,  and  rightly  so.  Of  this 
religion,  Auguste  Comte  was  the  main  champion, 
and  of  him,  it  may  be  said  that  he  suffered  a 
cerebral  attack  and  afterward  took  up  some  very 
crazy  notions.  But  of  greater  importance  is  the 
thought  of  the  origin  of  humanity  according  to  the 
theory  of  the  evolutionists.  If  one  can  find  no 
higher  ideal  to  worship  than  humanity — considering 
its  origin — Mallock  was  right  in  attacking  it.  After 
all,  his  doctrine  was  not  so  much  in  favor  of 
pessimism  as  against  the  arguments  he  himself  set 
up  against  optimism  for  the  pleasure  of  knocking 
them  down. 

Pessimism  is  that  theory  of  philosophical 
speculation  that  the  world  in  which  we  live,  the 


PESSIMISM    AND     OPTIMISM  43 

personal  environment  of  individuals,  and  the  general 
social  condition,  are  the  worst  that  could  possibly 
exist,  and  that  unhappiness  is  the  normal  rule  of 
human  existence.  It  has  remained  for  modern 
thinkers  to  revive  the  theory,  that  unhappiness  is  the 
predominating  element  in  mortal  life,  and  that  it  is 
better  never  to  have  lived  than  to  live ;  and  that  the 
end  of  life  is  the  only  refuge  against  misery. 

It  will  here  be  perceived  that  this  exposition  may 
be  traced  to  Buddhism,  which  advocates  the 
annihilation  of  egotist  craving,  the  extinction  of 
natural  passion,  the  aspiration  after  rest  as  the  end 
of  human  desire,  whether  conscious  or  not. 

The  pessimist  asserts  that  consciousness  is  a 
source  of  misery  and  wretchedness,  and  that  the 
evils  we  see  and  feel  can  never  end,  unless  they  end 
in  us  by  the  abolition  of  that  sense  of  individuality 
which  convinces  us  that  we  are  surrounded  by  a 
condition  of  things  whose  painfulness  Ave  can  neither 
cure  nor  surmount;  and  that  our  redemption  from 
the  death  of  an  existence,  merely  selfish  and  animal, 
is  desirable. 

In  proposing  an  antidote  for  pessimism,  asks 
Mr.  Charles  Nisbet,  where,  then,  is  the  moral  gov- 
ernment of  the  world,  the  ideal  tendency  of  things, 
the  high  and  lofty  destinies,  and  all  that  ?  Schopen- 
hauer and  Bahnsen,  earnest  thinkers,  arrive,  after 
exhaustive  examination  and  mature  deliberation,  at 
the  conclusion  that  the  world  is  not  the  best,  but  the 
worst  conceivable,  the  best  possible  issue  for  it  being 
annihilation,  man's  greatest  misfortune  birth,  his 
greatest  happiness  death. 

And  yet  the  everlasting  impossibility  of  accept- 
ing this  as  a  final  statement  proves  unquestionably 
its  partiality — proves  there  must  be  a  different  and 
broader  verdict. 

Life  is  hope;  is  struggle  upward  and  onward. 
Healthy  and  robust  life  can  set  no  final  goal  to  its 


44  PESSIMISM     AND     OPTIMISM 

endeavors  and  hopes,  but  carries  deep  into  its  bosom 
the  promise  of  quite  an  infinity  of  inheritance — 
dim  and  unconscious,  perhaps,  yet  latently  warm 
and  unquestioning. 

Despair  is  death;  declension  from  once  recog- 
nized higher  ideas  is  degeneration ;  violation  of 
principles  of  honor  and  justice  once  recognized  is 
inevitable  injury.  In  the  active  furtherance  of 
spiritual  or  universal  ends  alone  has  man  solid  and 
complete  satisfaction. 

Schopenhauer's  philosophy  is  one  of  despair,  so 
says  Hartman;  but  so  far  is  this  from  being  the 
worst  of  all  possible  worlds  that  it  is  the  best,  for 
it  tends  invincibly  to  the  chief  good  extinction  of  all 
being.  Schopenhauer  was  truly  a  bungler.  But 
the  reader  can  see  how  little  living  seriousness  Hart- 
man  possesses. 

But  the  thing  which  to  our  Anglo-Saxon  mind 
seems  so  outlandish  is  that  crowds  of  lively  fellows, 
revelling  in  animal  spirits  and  conscious  strength, 
should  enroll  themselves  in  Hartman's  ranks  of 
pessimism,  in  cold  blood,  as  his  permanent  apostles, 
and  feel  as  sorely  when  their  pessimism  is  attacked 
as  the  fabled  old  dead  inmate  of  the  almshouse  did 
when,  not  good  enough  for  heaven,  she  was  also 
shut  out  of  hades,  and  sat  on -the  road  and  wept 
that  she  should  have  to  return — to  Tewksbury 
asylum. 

The  truth  is  the  mixture  and  antithesis,  is  the 
appetizing  quality  in  the  fore  of  life.  The  dangers, 
misunderstandings,  jealousies,  errors  and  seductions 
on  the  one  hand;  on  the  other  hand,  the  joy  in 
healthy  relations  to  the  sensuous  world;  whoever 
will  realize  all  these  things  will  not  underrate  life 
on  this  planet,  but  will  prize  it. 

This  confused  world  of  good  and  evil  is  the  right 
arena  and  training  school  for  battle,  enterprise, 
patience — for  all  the  active  and  indeed  also  all  the 


PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM  45 

passive  virtues.  The  baseness,  stupidity,  folly, 
injustice,  suffering  and  wreck  this  world  everywhere 
presents  are  always  a  splendid  challenge  to  strength, 
diligence,  endurance,  faith,  wisdom — to  all  sublime 
and  manly  qualities.  Sloth,  indolence,  sweet 
dreaminess,  and  credulity,  have  a  hard  time  of  it 
here — meet  every  day  with  the  shrewdest  rubs  and 
tosses  till  they  are  either  forced  into  wakefulness 
or  gored  into  death.  Only  the  man  who  lives 
industriously,  moderately,  honestly,  and  truthfully, 
advances  to  higher  disclosures.  The  personal  pain, 
languishment  and  imbitterness  do  not  for  the  brave 
man  lessen  his  appreciation  of  life,  but  by  persistent 
w^ell-doing  he  subdues  and  converts  contrarities  into 
furtherances. 

Think  what  sort  of  a  world  it  would  be  without 
the  pain  and  persecution  we  suffer.  Yes,  this  earth 
is  dear  to  mortal  men,  not  merely  in  spite  of  its 
tears  and  crosses,  but  also  on  account  of  them. 

For,  indeed,  we  prize  life  not  by  the  sum  of  our 
possessions,  but  only  by  the  rate  and  steadiness  of 
our  growth.  "Not  the  possession,"  says  Lessing, 
''or  fancied  possession  of  the  truth,  but  the  endeavor 
after  it,  determines  a  man's  value."  And  out  of  the 
perplexities  and  corruptions  and  misunderstandings 
of  human  affairs  we  have  in  nature,  which  ever 
overcanopies  and  surrounds  us,  a  retreat  into  the 
beautiful  where  we  can  evermore  refresh  our  sense, 
and  in  the  conviction  of  the  good. 

The  sun,  stars,  woods,  grasses,  shells,  birds  and 
wild  creatures  are  not  corrupt,  or  at  least  do  not 
suggest  to  man,  when  he  contemplates  them  as  a 
whole,  images  of  corruption.  But  the  poor  besotted 
wretch  beholds  a  perfect  splendor  in  the  sun,  the 
prey  of  ruinous  appetites  looks  into  an  eye  of  inno- 
cence in  the  flow^er,  the  bankrupt  gazes  round  and 
above  him,  and  wonders  why  in  a  royal  palace  he 
should  be  a  blot  and  disgrace. 


40  PUSSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM 

'1  should  not  choose  a  Hfe  of  uninterrupted 
pleasure  were  the  world  to  engage  its  utmost  to 
secure  it  me,"  says  one.  ''The  lightning  is  born  of 
the  darkness,  and  the  battle,  joy  and  splendor  of 
life  are  to  be  measured  by  the  amount  of  opposition 
overcome." 

Let  us,  with  assured  hearts,  trust  the  course  of 
all  who  have  created  the  good  and  the  evil,  but  have, 
we  believe,  made  the  evil  to  be  ultimately  sub- 
servient to  the  good. 

There  are  no  means  of  measuring  or  weighing 
our  pains  and  pleasures  in  the  world  as  it  is,  but  we 
are  confident  that  if  our  pains  exceeded  our  pleas- 
ures, life  could  not  endure,  unless  it  should  be  on 
the  hope  of  improvement  in  the  future. 

The  opinion  that  this  world,  physically,  socially 
and  morally,  is  the  best  that  could  possibly  exist  is 
optimism;  this  includes  the  potentialities  of  man. 
The  optimist  looks  upon  existence  as  a  great  and 
unmixed  good.  Some  advocates  of  optimism  have 
maintained  that  the  presence  of  evil  teaches  man- 
kind to  discern  and  choose  the  good,  by  striving, 
through  suffering  and  self-exertion,  to  attain  the 
blessedness  which  is  in  the  reach  of  all  alike. 

These  have  maintained  a  conditional  optimism; 
that  is  one  conditioned  that  we  are  helping  agents. 
Upon  this  condition,  it  is  the  best  of  possible  worlds 
if  we  desire  it  and  help  to  make  it  so.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  is  the  worst  of  all  possible  worlds  if  we 
desire  it  and  help  to  make  it  so.  In  recent  times 
optimistic  theory  has  been  associated  almost  entirely 
with  the  ideas  of  improvement  and  progress,  and 
the  whole  effort  of  many  men  is  to  make  this  a  better 
world. 

We  may  not  talk  of  optimism  being  true,  but 
of  its  becoming  true.  The  full  verification  must  be 
contingent  on  our  complicity,  both  theoretical  and 
practical.    All  that  optimism  asserts  is  that  the  facts 


PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM  47 

of  the  world  are  a  fit  basis  for  the  chief  good,  if  we 
do  our  share  and  react  upon  them,  as  it  is  meant  we 
should  (with  fortitude,  for  example,  and  undis- 
mayed hope). 

The  world  is  thus  absolutely  good  only  in  a 
potential  or  hypothetic  sense.  And  the  hypothetic 
form  of  the  optimistic  belief  is  the  very  signature 
of  its  consistency  and  first  condition  of  its  proba- 
bility, and  faith  is  the  only  legitimate  attitude  of 
mind  it  can  claim  from  us.  This  is  what  optimism, 
when  assented  to,  and  acting  on  the  emotions,  claim 
to  do  for  conduct,  and,  indeed,  it  is  no  slight  thing. 

It  is  a  thing  that  makes  all  the  difference 
between  the  life  of  a  race  of  brutes  and  the  life  of 
a  race  with  something  which  we  have  hitherto  called 
divine  in  it. 

Optimism  asserts  that  the  human  race,  as  a 
whole,  is  a  progressive  and  improving  organism, 
and  the  consciousness  on  the  part  of  the  individual 
that  such  is  the  case,  will  be  the  principal  cause  of 
its  continued  progress  in  the  future,  and  will  make 
the  individual  a  devoted  and  happy  partaker  of  it. 

For  my  present  purpose,  the  word  optimism  is 
good  enough,  although  it  is  sometimes  used  with  a 
meaning  which  many  devotees  of  the  religion  of 
humanity  would  repudiate. 

George  Eliot,  for  instance,  declared  she  was 
not  an  optimist.  "Things  were  not  for  the  best,"  she 
said,  "but  they  were  always  tending  to  get  better." 
Nobody,  again,  lays  greater  or  more  solemn  weight 
on  the  doctrine  of  progress  than  does  Mr.  John 
Morley,  and  yet  nobody  would  more  literally  ridi- 
cule the  doctrines  of  certain  optimists,  particularly 
that  of  Dr.  Pangloss,  whose  favorite  maxim  is  that 
"all  is  for  the  best,  in  this  best  of  possible  worlds." 

But,  in  spite  of  the  sober  and  even  somber  view 
which  such  thinkers  take  of  the  human  lot,  they  still 
believe  that  it  holds  some  distinct  and  august  mean- 


48  PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM 

ing;  that  the  tides  of  affairs,  however  troubled,  do 
not  eddy  aimlessly,  and  do  not  flow  toward  the 
darkness,  but  keep  due  on  toward  the  light,  however 
distant. 

They  believe,  in  short,  that  the  human  lot  has 
something  in  it,  which  makes  it,  in  the  eyes  of  all 
who  can  see  clearly,  a  thing  to  be  acquiesced  in,  not 
merely  with  resignation,  but  devoutness. 

And  now,  having  seen  what  optimism  is,  let  us, 
before  going  farther,  make  ourselves  quite  clear  as 
to  what  results  in  life  its  exponents  claim  for  it. 
They  do  not  claim  for  it,  as  has  been  sometimes 
claimed  for  Christianity,  that  it  is  the  foundation  of 
the  moral  code.  Our  modern  optimists,  without  a 
single  exception,  so  says  one,  hold  the  foundation 
of  the  moral  code  to  be  social.  In  other  words, 
the  end  of  moral  conduct  being  the  welfare  of 
society.  Our  assent  to  the  creed  of  optimism  makes 
that  welfare  incalculably  nearer  and  dearer  to  us 
than  it  would  be  otherwise,  and  converts  a  mere 
avoidance  of  such  overt  acts  as  would  injure  it 
into  a  willing,  a  constant  and  eager  effort  to 
promote  it. 

''Nor  is  optimism,"  says  Philips  Brooks,  ''the 
belief  that  this  is  a  thoroughly  good  world  in  which 
we  live;  nor  is  it  simply  a  careless  passing  over  of 
the  evils  of  life  because  we  do  not  choose  to  look  at 
them.  On  the  contrary,  a  man  is  an  optimist  just 
because  he  thinks  the  w^orld  a  good  one,  because  he 
sees  whiteness  in  it,  because  he  sees  its  possibilities 
behind  every  accomplishment. 

"Nor  is  optimism  a  way  of  seeing  how  every- 
thing is  going  to  come  out  for  good.  One  may  say, 
what  sort  of  optimism  is  that  which  does  not  know 
how^  evil  is  going  to  be  eradicated?  On  the  other 
hand,  w^hat  is  it?  It  is  a  great  belief  in  a  great  pur- 
pose underlying  the  w^orld  for  good,  for  human  ful- 
fillment, which  is  absolutely  certain  to  fulfill  itself, 


PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM  49 

somehow,  somewhere?  Where  or  how,  I  do  not 
know.     That  is  optimism."     So  says  that  divine. 

"Who  are  they  that  have  been  optimists?"  asks 
he.  That  is  one  way  we  judge  of  the  deepest  truths 
of  any  thought.  Have  they  been  men  who  dwelt 
upon  the  surface  of  things?  I  cannot  call  their 
names,  for  they  are  legion,  but  the  poets  are  all 
optimists.  Tennyson,  sad  as  he  is,  sings  it  every 
day.  It  was  the  same  with  Browning,  and  with 
our  own  Lowell  and  his  great  strains;  and  it  was 
the  same  with  Whittier,  too,  who  had  a  hope.  They 
were  men  who  were  poets  because  their  souls  were 
full  of  the  certainty  of  the  fulfillment  of  human  life. 

When  one  escapes  out  of  the  fog  of  pessimism, 
he  often  finds  himself  in  a  world  which  is  less 
brutally  lustful  and  sordid,  is  less  full  of  weariness 
and  disease  and  melancholy. 

It  ought  to  be  remembered  that  the  course  of  a 
great  deal  of  current  pessimism  is  to  be  found  in 
evil  living.  The  man  who  is  violating  the  laws  of 
life  cannot  be  expected  to  think  well  of  them. 

All  testimony  of  men  of  this  class  ought  to  be 
rejected,  for  it  is  generally  known  that  extravigance, 
dissipation,  dishonesty  and  intemperance  have  their 
just  punishment  here. 

"The  simple  fact  that  men  have  the  power  of 
rationally  adapting  means  to  ends  is  enough  to 
prompt  to  effort  and  inspire  hope,  for  in  this  power 
lies  the  key  to  the  highest  possibilities  of  advance- 
ment. He  who  knows  can,  and  as  long  as  this  is 
the  case,  the  path  of  knowledge  will  be  the  upward 
path."     So  says  Mr.  W.  D.  Le  Sueur. 

All  that  can  be  said  is  that,  taking  the  world 
and  human  consciousness  as  they  are,  there  seems 
to  be  one  line  of  conduct  which  best  subserves 
human  interests.  That  line  consists  in  practicing 
the  lessons  that  nature  and  history  have  taught  us, 
using  our  faculties  for  the  acquisition  of  real  knowl- 


50  PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM 

edge  and  our  powers  of  foresight  for  a  wise  adjust- 
ment of  present  action  to  further  needs  and  results. 

In  spite  of  Mr.  Mallock's  theory,  from  the  com- 
mencement of  history  down  to  the  present  day, 
there  has  been  one  way  of  being  noble,  and  that  has 
been  by  caring  for  one's  fellow-men.  In  the  present 
day,  when  the  laws  of  social  development  and  the 
true  relations  of  individual  life  are  so  much  better 
understood  than  formerly,  there  ought  to  be,  and 
there  is,  much  more  to  nourish  in  individuals  a 
rational  regard  for  the  general  welfare.  The  case 
is  one  calling  for  the  higher  life  of  society,  without 
which  the  individual  would  starve. 

The  scientific  solution  may  be  summed  up  in 
the  word  adaptation.  There  is  a  law  in  things 
which  slowly  reveals  to  careful  observation,  and  just 
as  the  law  is  read,  learned,  marked  and  obeyed  does 
human  life  grow  in  value  and  more  and  more  convey 
its  own  justifications  within  itself. 

''Supposing  it  possible  that  religion  should,  in  the 
future,  take  the  form  of  an  earnest  study  of  the 
laws  of  life  and  of  morality,  personal  and  social, 
who  can  forecast  the  glory  that  might  yet  be 
revealed  in  this  despised  humanity  of  ours  ?  If  any- 
thing will  thus  transfigure  society,  we  venture  to 
af^rm  that  it  will  be  science  pursued  in  a  religious 
spirit — that  is,  regarded  as  a  ministry  of  truth  and 
good  to  mankind."    So  says  Le  Sueur. 

That  man  can,  and  does,  improve  the  physical 
condition  of  the  earth,  making  it  a  more  suitable 
dwelling  place,  is  evident  on  every  hand. 

To  enumerate  briefly :  In  the  way  of  encroach- 
ing upon  its  forests,  converting  them  into  tillable 
fields;  he  both  drains  and  irrigates  the  soil,  ^nd 
when  we  consider  the  mighty  effects  of  both,  we 
see  that  his  part  is  wonderful ;  he  fortifies  river 
banks  and  maritime  coasts,  and  constructs  artificial 
canals;     he   drains   large   lakes    and    swamps;     he 


PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM  51 

tunnels  under  mountains,  under  rivers  and  cities,  for 
railroad  construction  and  other  purposes,  and  cuts 
great  ship  canals,  separating  great  natural  bodies  of 
land.  These  huge  enterprises  greatly  modify  the 
surface  of  the  earth.  He  domesticates  animals  and 
improves  them  by  breeding;  also  improves  vege- 
tables, plants  and  trees  by  husbandry,  and  estab- 
lishes fish  hatcheries. 

Man  is  also  great  in  altruistic  projects  which 
help  his  fellows  and  make  life  agreeable,  such  as 
the  construction  and  operating  of  railroads,  tele- 
graph lines,  telephones,  newspapers,  and  a  thousand 
other  useful  enterprises.  If,  as  evolutionists  claim, 
we  have  come  up  from  the  lowest  form  of  organized 
matter  (and  many  of  the  most  noted  theologians 
of  the  present  day  admit  it),  then  there  is  no  reason 
to  believe  that  man  has  stopped  short  in  his  upward 
career.  On  the  contrary,  as  mind  is  undoubtedly 
an  ulterian  goal  of  the  process,  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe  that  whether  or  not  his  body  has  stopped 
in  its  upward  progress,  that  mentally  and 
morally  he  is  still  advancing,  and  that  we  are  grow- 
ing wiser  and  better.  This  is  shown  by  his 
altruistic  works. 

Knowing  the  value  of  education  in  improving 
the  mind  and  morals  of  the  young,  he  takes  par- 
ticular pains  that  it  receives  proper  attention,  not 
only  in  the  simple  branches,  but  in  higher  studies, 
believing  that  familiarity  wath  the  reign  of  law  in 
the  universe  will  give  system  to  the  thoughts  and 
morals  of  those  who  pursue  such  studies. 
He  constructs  and  maintains  free  libraries,  where 
all  may  secure  such  knowledge.  Knowing  that 
civilization  raises  the  savage  from  the  condition  of 
a  brute  to  that  of  a  useful  citizen,  he  takes  pains 
that  useful  arts  and  the  sciences  are  inculcated. 

But  the  best  evidences  of  the  usefulness  of  man, 
and  that  the  world  is  growing  better,  is  seen  in  the 


52  PhSSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM 

treatment  of  defectives.  Take  the  treatment  of 
criminals.  Time  was  when  they  were  kept  under- 
ground, chained  together  in  gangs,  hy  the  neck,  and 
not  allowed  to  move  away  from  each  other  for  any 
purjxDse  whatever.  As  a  result,  prisons  were  hor- 
ribly filthy  and  hotbeds  of  pestilence.  Whereas  our 
modern  prisons  are  models  of  cleanliness,  health  and 
routine. 

Similar  remarks  might  be  made  of  the  treat- 
ment of  the  insane.  In  the  past,  they  were  chained 
like  wild  beasts,  or  kept  in  cages  with  a  bed  of 
straw,  and  their  food  was  thrown  to  them  as  if  they 
were  dangerous  animals.  Today  they  are  treated 
like  human  beings. 

But  the  greatest  power  of  man  in  helping  his 
fellow^s  is  seen  in  his  prevention  of  epidemics  of 
sickness,  such  as  those  of  malaria,  smallpox,  yellow 
fever  and  cholera.  And  then  there  are  the  arrange- 
ments for  caring  for  the  sick  poor.  Their  way  is 
paid  by  the  authorities  until  they  get  on  their  feet 
again. 

If  these  do  not  show  that  the  world  is  growing 
better,  I  should  like  to  know  what  would  be  neces- 
sary to  establish  that  fact.  Does  not  this  progress 
in  the  past  lead  us  to  hope  that  there  is  in  store  for 
us  in  the  future  things  concerning  which  we  dare 
not  dream?  And  this  hope  helps  to  bring  these 
destinies  to  their  fruition.  Therefore,  whether  the 
world  is  actually  growing  greatly  better  should  not 
afTect  us  seriously,  since  our  thinking  it  is,  helps  to 
make  it  so.  Hence,  optimism  is  a  better  work- 
ing theory  than  pessimism,  and  it  is  far  more 
comforting. 


Nervous  Derangements 

OR 

Some  of  the  Causes  Which  Lead  to  Sensorial 
Deception 

There  is  an  inherent  tendency  in  the  mind  of 
man  to  ascribe  supernatural  agencies  to  those  events 
the  causes  of  which  are  beyond  his  knowledge,  and 
this  is  especially  the  case  with  the  normal  and 
morbid  phenomena  Avhich  are  manifested  in  his  own 
person.  But,  as  his  intellect  becomes  more  thor- 
oughly trained,  the  range  of  his  credulity  becomes 
more  and  more  circumscribed,  his  doubts  are  multi- 
plied, and  he  at  length  reaches  that  condition  of 
''healthy  skepticism  which  allows  of  no  belief  with- 
out the  proof." 

But  there  have  always  been  individuals  whose 
love  for  the  marvelous  is  so  great  and  whose  logical 
powers  are  so  small,  as  to  render  them  susceptible 
of  entertaining  any  belief,  no  matter  how  preposter- 
ous it  may  be ;  and  others  who  accept  any 
hypothesis  which  may  be  offered  as  an  explanation, 
rather  than  confess  their  ignorance. 

As  regards  purely  imaginary  images — that  is, 
images  not  based  on  any  sensorial  impression — the 
trouble  is  in  the  brain.  An  excess  or  deficiency  of 
blood  circulating  through  this  organ,  or  a  morbid 
alteration  of  its  quality,  will  often  lead  to  various 
hallucinations. 

Various  mental  emotions  act  in  a  like  manner 
by  their  influence  in  deranging  the  cerebral  cir- 
culation. 

5-  53 


54  NURl'OUS    DURANGEMBNTS 

A  young  latly  who  had  overtasked  her  mind  at 
school  was  thrown  thereby  into  a  semi-hysterical 
condition,  ckn-ing  which  she  saw  specters  of  various 
kinds  which  passed  and  re-passed  rapidly  before  her 
all  day  long.  Everything  at  which  she  looked 
appeared  to  her  of  enormous  size.  A  head,  for 
instance,  seemed  to  be  several  feet  in  diameter,  and 
little  children  looked  like  giants. 

Physical  causes  calculated  to  increase  the 
amount  of  blood  or  to  alter  its  quality  may  have  this 
effect.  A  similar  instance  is  related  in  Nicholson's 
Journal.  '*I  knew  a  gentleman,"  he  states,  "in  the 
vigor  of  life  wdio,  in  my  opinion,  is  not  exceeded  by 
any  one  in  acquired  knowledge  and  originality  of 
deep  research,  and  wdio  for  nine  months  in  suc- 
cession was  always  visited  by  a  figure  of  the  same 
man,  threatening  to  destroy  him,  at  the  time  of  his 
going  to  rest.  It  appeared  upon  his  lying  down, 
and  instantly  disappeared  when  he  resumed  the  erect 
position.  The  explanation  here  is  very  simple.  The 
recumbent  position  facilitated  the  flow  of  blood  to 
the  brain.  Hence  the  appearance  of  the  figure  was 
due  to  the  resulting  congestion. 

''A  curious  illustration  of  the  influence  of  the 
imagination  in  magnifying  the  perceptions  of  sen- 
sorial impressions  derived  from  the  outer  world, 
occurred  during  the  conflagration  at  the  Crystal 
Palace  in  the  winter  of  1866-7.  When  the  animals 
were  destroyed  by  the  fire,  it  was  supposed  that  the 
chimpanzee  had  succeeded  in  escaping  from  his 
cage.  Attracted  to  the  roof  with  this  expectation 
in  full  force,  men  saw  the  unhappy  animal  holding 
on  to  it  and  writhing  in  agony  to  get  astride  one 
of  the  iron  ribs.  It  need  not  be  said  that  its  strug- 
gles were  watched  by  those  below  wnih  breathless 
suspense,  and,  as  the  newspapers  informed  us,  with 
'sickening  dread.' 

"But  there  was  no  animal  whatever  there,  and 


NERVOUS    DBRANGBMENTS  55 

all  this  feeling  was  thrown  away  upon  a  tattered 
piece  of  blind,  so  torn  as  to  resemble  to  the  eye  of 
fancy  the  body,  arms  and  legs  of  an  ape." 

There  is  one  force  which  excites  the  astonish- 
ment of  the  vulgar,  and  which  it  is  inexplicable  to 
many  who  consider  themselves  learned,  and  that  is 
animal  electricity.  Yet  all  our  knowledge  of  animal 
electricity  tends  to  show  that  it  does  not  differ  in 
any  essential  particular  from  the  galvanism  devel- 
oped outside  of  the  body  by  chemical  action;  and 
that  the  tissues  of  the  body,  the  bones,  muscles, 
nerves,  etc.,  act  toward  it  precisely  as  they  do 
toward  the  galvanism  which  passes  along  an  iron 
or  copper  wire  and  sets  a  telegraphic  instrument  in 
operation. 

Concentrated  attention  is  a  source  of  erroneous 
sensorial  impressions.  The  attention,  when  concen- 
trated upon  any  particular  thing  or  part  of  the  body, 
will  often  lead  to  erroneous  conclusions.  An 
observer,  gazing  anxiously  out  to  sea  or  across  a 
vast  plain,  will  scarcely  ever  fail  to  see  the  object 
of  which  he  is  in  search;  and  pains,  tastes,  odors, 
and  even  disease,  can  frequently  be  thus  originated. 
Thus,  a  lady  who  is  of  a  very  impressionable  organ- 
ization, may  be  able  at  will  to  produce  a  pain  in  any 
part  of  her  body  by  steadily  fixing  her  attention 
upon  it.  Physicians  know  very  well  that  actual 
organic  disease  may  be  produced  by  the  habitual 
concentration  of  the  attention  on  an  organ.  The 
fancies  of  the  hypochondriac  may  thus  in  time 
become  realities. 

A  timid  woman  goes  to  bed  after  having  read 
accounts  or  listened  to  stories  of  house-burnings. 
Her  attention  is  concentrated  upon  the  one  object, 
and  before  she  goes  to  sleep  she  sees  lights,  hears 
the  crackling  of  the  flames,  and  smells  the  smoke. 

Sleight-of-hand  has  been  made  use  of  to  produce 
the  most  extravagant  deceptions,  by  carrying  the 


56  NERVOUS    DBRANGIIMUNTS 

attention  away  from  the  proposition  before  us  and 
preparing  the  way  for  the  most  outlandish  decep- 
tions. The  perfection  to  which  this  art  is  carried  by 
accompHshed  performers  is  really  remarkable,  and 
is  much  more  wonderful  than  Avould  be  real  visita- 
tions of  spiritual  beings.  For  when  we  are  deceived, 
with  all  the  elements  of  knowledge  at  our  command, 
it  is  certainly  more  astounding  than  w^ould  be  the 
actual  appearance  before  our  eyes  of  something 
which  no  one  had  ever  seen  before  and  of  wdiich 
no  one  knew  anything. 

For  instance,  ''a  man  stands  before  us,  clothed 
in  ordinary  apparel,  and  on  an  open  stage  of  a 
theater,  wnth  no  drapery  within  reach,  and  nothing 
to  obstruct  our  full  view  of  him.  He  takes  a  white 
cambric  handkerchief  out  of  his  coat  pocket,  and 
holds  it  in  both  hands  stretched  out  before  him.  He 
then,  still  holding  one  corner  w^ith  his  left  hand, 
seizes  the  other  corner  with  his  teeth,  and  with  the 
free  right  hand  proceeds  to  take  from  under  the 
handkerchief  bowl  after  bowd,  to  the  number  of  a 
dozen,  full  of  w-ater  to  the  brim,  and  each  contain- 
ing several  gold  fish.  Now,  such  things  are  to  me 
more  wonderful  deceptions,  as  they  are  avowed  to 
be,  for  he  admits  and  claims  that  they  are  imposi- 
tions upon  the  eyesight  of  his  audience,  than  would 
be  the  apparition  of  a  ghost  of  a  person  I  knew^  to 
be  dead.  A  man  in  evening  dress  cannot  reason- 
ably be  supposed  to  be  able  to  carry  a  dozen  gallon 
bowls,  full  of  water  and  fish,  in  his  waistcoat 
pockets.  Such  capacity  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be 
admitted,  and  yet  he,  in  some  way  or  other,  deceives 
the  eyes  of  the  hundreds  of  persons  wdio  are  watch- 
ing with  every  intention  of  detecting  him  if  they 
can. 

"Another  places  a  stool  in  full  view  of  the  spec- 
tators, and  on  this  stool  puts  a  large  empty  basket. 
There  is  no  curtain  around  the  stool,  and  it  w^ould 


NERVOUS    DBRANGBMBNTS  57 

apparently  be  impossible  for  anything  to  pass 
through  the  bottom  of  the  basket  without  being 
seen  by  everyone  present.  A  woman  then  gets  into 
the  basket,  the  lid  is  closed,  and  the  performer, 
drawing  a  long,  sharp  sword,  plunges  it  in  all 
directions  into  the  basket.  Shrieks  and  groans, 
gradually  getting  fainter  and  fainter,  apparently 
come  from  the  basket,  showing  the  presence  of  the 
ventriloquist;  blood,  or  what  has  the  appearance  of 
blood,  drops  from  the  sword,  and,  finally,  the  cries 
having  ceased,  the  performer  desists  from  his  hor- 
ribly realistic  performance  and  announces  that  he 
has  done  a  part  of  his  task,  and  will  now  proceed 
to  its  conclusion.  He  calls  loudly  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  and  straightway  the  woman  who  had 
entered  the  basket  walks  into  the  room  from  the 
farther  end  and  takes  her  place  upon  the  stage  with 
as  much  cool  blood  as  though  she  had  not  been 
just  butchered  in  the  presence  of  four  or  five  hun- 
dred people.  The  conviction  of  a  woman  going  into 
a  basket  is  that  she  cannot  get  out  of  it  in  our  pres- 
ence and  within  our  view  without  our  knowledge, 
and  when  she  does  get  out  under  these  circum- 
stances, we  are  naturally  astonished." 

And  yet  the  most  of  sleight-of-hand  performers 
do  not  claim  there  is  anything  unnatural  in  it. 
Unnatural  as  it  may  appear,  those  who  allege  that 
supernatural  agents,  such  as  spirits,  are  the  efficient 
workers  in  such  phenomena  are  either  themselves 
deluded  or  are  the  base  deluders  of  others — in  other 
words,  are  villains. 

A  sleight-of-hand  performer  knows  very  well 
the  great  advantage  of  being  able  to  engage  the 
attention  of  those  whom  he  is  deceiving.  Mention 
has  already  been  hinted  at  of  this  element  as  a 
source  of  inattention  to  other  things  which  are  going 
on  around.  It  is  the  drawing  away  of  the  attention 
from  those  other  thino:s  that  is  the  secret  of  the 


58  NERVOUS    DERANGEMENTS 

success.  The  fact  that  soldiers  have  been  severely 
wounded  in  battle  without  knowing  it  till  faintness 
supervened  or  the  contest  was  over,  is  a  familiar 
fact.  Because  the  attention  was  engaged  in  such 
a  -way  as  to  draw  it  off  from  themselves. 

When,  in  addition,  the  performer  is  enabled  to 
accompany  his  operations  with  imposing  rites  and 
ceremonies,  or  an  appearance  of  mystery  or  awe, 
his  success  with  a  certain  class  of  observers  is  still 
more  certain,  for  not  only  does  he  deceive  their 
senses,  but  he  imposes  on  their  understandings. 

The  perfection  to  which  tricks  of  sleight  of  hand 
can  be  brought  is  remarkable.  In  the  East  Indies, 
the  jugglers,  in  their  dexterity,  surpass  the  tricks 
of  experts  of  the  western  world,  and  they  do  not 
pretend  that  their  performances  are  anything  than 
adroit  tricks. 

Thus  the  Hindoo  magician  causes  flowers  to 
grow  several  feet  in  a  few  minutes,  changes  his  rod 
into  a  serpent,  suspends  himself  in  the  air,  kills 
people  and  restores  them  to  life,  and  even  allows 
himself  to  be  buried  several  months  in  the  earth  to 
be  dug  up  at  the  end  of  that  time  alive.  In  the  way 
of  conjuring,  nothing  can  exceed  the  skill  of  the 
East  Indian  jugglers.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago  they  were  even  more  expert  than  now.  For 
instance,  the  conjurers  were  desired  to  produce  upon 
the  spot,  and  from  seeds,  ten  mulberry  trees.  They 
immediately  planted  ten  seeds,  which  in  a  few  min- 
utes produced  as  many  trees,  each,  as  they  grew  into 
the  air,  spreading  forth  their  branches  and  yielding 
excellent  fruit.  But  this  was  not  all.  Before  the 
trees  were  removed,  there  appeared  among  the 
foliage  birds  of  such  surprising  beauty  in  color  and 
shape  and  melody  of  song  as  the  world  never  saw 
before.  At  the  close  of  the  operation,  the  foliage, 
as  in  autumn,  was  seen  to  put  on  its  varied  tints. 


NERVOUS    DERAXGBMEKTS  59 

and  the  trees  gradually  disappeared  into  the  earth 
from  which  they  had  been  made  to  spring. 

They  produced  a  chain  fifty  feet  in  length,  and 
threw  one  end  of  it  toward  the  sky,  where  it 
remained  as  if  fastened  to  something  in  the  air.  A 
dog  was  then  brought  forward,  and,  being  placed 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  chain,  immediately  ran  up 
it,  and,  reaching  the  other  end,  disappeared  in  the 
air.  At  last  they  took  down  the  chain  and  put  it 
into  a  bag. 

Yet  these  magicians  and  jugglers  do  not  pretend 
to  be  endowed  with  supernatural  powers;  still  they 
so  overpower  and  deceive  the  senses  as  to  make  them 
see  the  sights  and  hear  the  sounds  they  set  out  to 
produce. 

Among  nervous  disorders  we  may  mention 
natural  somnambulism.  In  the  condition  known  as 
somnambulism,  there  appears  to  be  a  more  or  less 
perfect  state  of  automatism,  or  self-moving  capacity, 
which  is  the  governing  power  of  the  individual. 
Certain  faculties  and  senses  are  intensely  exalted, 
while  others  are  as  completely  suspended  in  action. 
If  the  attention  can  be  concentrated  upon  any  par- 
ticular idea,  circumstance  or  object,  great  lucidity 
is  manifested.  On  the  other  hand,  there  may  be, 
and  generally  is,  the  most  profound  abstraction  of 
mind  in  regard  to  all  other  ideas  and  things. 

One  of  the  causes  of  this  state  is  a  particular 
nervous  temperament  which  predisposes  individuals 
otherwise  in  good  health  to  paroxysms  of  somnam- 
bulism during  their  ordinary  sleep.  Or  it  may 
result  as  a  consequence  of  a  high  degree  of  mental 
exaltation. 

A  word  or  two  with  regard  to  Jane  Rider,  the 
Springfield,  Mass.,  somnambulist,  will  be  both 
instructive  and  interesting: 

She  was  seventeen  years  of  age,  intelligent,  of 
mild  and  obliging  disposition.     Her  education  was 


60  NERVOUS    DBRANGBMENTS 

good  for  her  class  of  society.  She  was  of  full  habit, 
but  was  subject  to  headaches,  and  about  three  years 
previously  was  affected  for  several  months  with 
St.  Vitus'  dance.  Dr.  Belden,  who  saw  her  in  one 
of  her  paroxysms,  says  of  her : 

''It  was  determined  to  allow  her  to  take  her  own 
way,  and  watch  her  movements.  Having  dressed 
herself,  she  went  down  stairs  and  proceeded  to  make 
preparations  for  breakfast.  She  set  the  table, 
arranged  the  various  articles  with  the  utmost  pre- 
cision, went  into  a  dark  room  and  into  a  closet  at 
the  remotest  corner,  from  which  she  took  the  coffee 
cups,  placed  them  on  a  w^aiter,  turned  it  sideways 
to  pass  through  the  doors,  avoided  all  intervening 
obstacles  and  deposited  the  whole  safely  on  the 
table.  She  then  went  into  the  pantry,  the  blinds  of 
which  were  shut,  and  the  door  closed  after  her.  She 
then  skimmed  the  milk,  poured  the  cream  into  one 
cup  and  the  milk  into  another  without  spilling  a 
drop.  She  then  cut  the  bread,  placed  it  regularly  on 
the  plate,  and  divided  the  slices  in  the  middle.  In 
fine,  she  went  through  the  whole  operation  with  as 
much  precision  as  the  cook  in  open  day;  and  this 
with  her  eyes  closed  and  without  any  light,  except 
that  from  one  lamp  which  was  standing  in  the  break- 
fast room  to  enable  the  family  to  observe  her 
operations. 

'^During  the  whole  time,  she  seemed  to  take  no 
notice  of  those  around  her,  unless  they  purposely 
stood  in  her  way,  or  placed  chairs  or  other  obstacles 
before  her,  w^ien  she  avoided  them,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  impatience  at  being  thus  disturbed. 

"She  finally  returned  voluntarily  to  bed,  and  on 
finding  the  table  arranged  for  breakfast  when  she 
made  her  appearance  in  the  morning,  inquired  why 
she  had  been  allowed  to  sleep  while  another  per- 
formed her  work.     None  of  the  transaction  of  the 


NERVOUS    DERANGEMENTS  61 

preceeding  night  had  left  the  shghtest  impression  on 
her  mind." 

She  had  many  more  paroxysms  similar  in  gen- 
eral character  to  that  just  described.  Though  it  was 
found  that  her  sense  of  sight  was  greatly  increased 
in  acuteness,  she  had  no  clairvoyance,  properly  so 
called.  It  was  ascertained,  too,  that,  though  she  had 
no  recollection  when  awake  of  what  she  had  done 
during  a  paroxysm,  she  remembered  in  one  par- 
oxysm the  events  of  the  preceding  one.  Finally, 
under  suitable  treatment  her  seizures  disappeared 
altogether. 

Upon  examination,  it  was  found  that  she  not 
only  had  paroxysm  of  natural  somnambulism,  but 
that  she  had  acquired  the  power  of  inducing  the 
hypnotic  state  at  will. 

Her  process  was  to  take  up  some  of  the 
philosophic  works  she  was  in  the  habit  of  studying, 
select  a  paragraph  which  required  intense  thought 
or  excited  powerful  emotion,  read  it,  close  the  book, 
fix  her  eyes  steadily,  and  then  reflect  deeply  upon 
what  she  had  read.  From  the  reverie  thus  occa- 
sioned she  gradually  passed  into  the  somnambulic 
condition.  During  this  state,  it  was  said  she 
answered  questions  correctly,  read  books  held  behind 
her,  described  scenes  passing  in  distant  places,  and 
communicated  messages  from  the  dead. 

Women  have  repeatedly  been  placed  in  the 
hypnotic  state,  and  surgical  operations  have  been 
performed  which  would  otherwise  have  caused  great 
pain,  without  the  least  sensation  having  been  experi- 
enced. 

In  a  paper  of  this  kind  it  is  not  expected  that 
hysteria  can  be  treated  of  with  any  degree  of  ful- 
ness. All  that  is  necessary  is  to  make  the  reader 
understand  the  relations  which  it  bears  to  various 
delusions.    There  is  a  strong  tendency  in  all  persons 


62  XUKl'ObS    DERANGEMENTS 

afflicted  with  this  disease  to  the  occurrence  of 
symptoms  which  stimulate  organic  disease. 

Paralysis,  both  of  motion  and  of  sensation,  is 
one  of  the  morbid  conditions  thus  assumed.  Thus 
a  hysterical  woman  will  suddenly  take  to  her  bed, 
and  declare  that  she  has  no  feeling  and  no  power  in 
her  arms  or  legs.  The  most  careful  examination 
shows  that  she  is  speaking  the  truth.  Pins  may  be 
thrust  into  the  affected  limb,  it  may  be  scorched,  and 
yet  the  possessor  does  not  wince.  A  somewhat 
analogous  state  exists  in  us  all  at  times.  When  the 
mind  is  intensely  occupied,  or  the  passions  greatly 
aroused,  there  is  a  like  insensibility  to  pain. 

I  will  briefly  mention  one  case  of  Hystro- 
Epilepsy :  'Tt  began  with  slight  tetanic  rigidity,  then 
there  were  slight  clonic  convulsions,  epileptiform  in 
character,  with  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and  then  the 
consciousness  having  been  regained  the  volitional 
muscular  contractions  made  their  appearance,  as  well 
as  a  higher  state  of  delirium.  The  face  tw^itched, 
the  tongue  was  protruded,  the  eyes  rolled.  She 
seized  books  and  other  articles  within  her  reach  and 
hurled  them  about  the  room.  She  swore  fearfully 
and  uttered  the  most  obscene  w^ords  with  a  horrible 
leer  on  her  face.  Then  she  threw^  herself  on  the 
floor  and  kicked,  rolled  and  tossed  about^  without 
regard  to  decency  or  the  safety  of  her  own  or  others' 
limbs.  She  dashed  her  head  against  a  chair, 
scratched  her  face,  tore  her  hair  and  beat  her  breast. 
Finally,  she  fell  asleep  utterly  exhausted,  and  did 
not  awake  for  several  hours. 

''She  professed,  evidently  with  truth,  that  she 
had  no  recollection  of  what  had  taken  place." 

There  are  many  other  forms  of  nervous  disorder 
we  might  refer  to,  such  as  Catelepsy,  Ecstacy, 
Stigmatization,  and  such  as  occur  in  religious 
revivals,  as  manifested  by  the  Jerkers  and  Shakers, 
for  instance ;    but  I  will  conclude  bv  reference  to  a 


NERVOUS    DERANGEMENTS  63 

couple  of  other  forms  of  hysteria,  to-wit :  Devil 
Dancing  and  the  Laughing  Gift.  A  devil  has  been 
angered  and  must  be  propitiated.  Beat  the  tom-tom 
louder !  Let  the  fattest  sheep  be  offered  as  a  pro- 
pitiation !  Let  the  horns  blaze  out  as  the  priest  rolls 
about  in  the  giddy  dance  and  gashes  himself  in  his 
frenzy !  More  fire !  Quicker  music  !  Wilder  bounds 
from  the  devil  dancers !  Shrieks,  and  laughter,  and 
sobs,  and  frantic  shouts !  Ha,  ha !  The  God  is  in 
me  and  shrieks !  I  will  solace  you,  cure  you,  God 
is  in  me,  and  I  am  God !  Hack  and  slaughter — the 
blood  of  the  sacrifice  is  sweet!  Another  fowl; 
another  goat — quick!  I  am  athirst  for  blood!  Such 
are  the  words  which  hoarsely  burst  from  the  froth- 
ing lips  of  the  devil-dancer,  as  he  bounds  and  leaps 
and  gyrates,  with  short,  sharp  cries,  and  red  eyes 
almost  staring  from  their  sockets. 

Take  last  the  Laughing  Gift.  Often  some  one 
will  feel  a  gift  and  will  begin  with  he,  he,  he; 
ha,  ha,  ha;  ho,  ho,  ho.  Another  takes  it  up,  and 
soon  all  in  the  room  are  engaged  in  boisterous  laugh- 
ter. Once  under  full  ''laughing  gift,"  they  will 
hold  on  to  their  sides  and  reel  in  their  chairs  till 
they  become  exhausted.     This  gift  ends  in  a  song: 

Ho,  ho,  ho;   he,  he,  he! 

O,  what  a  pretty  little  path  I  see ! 

Pretty  path,  pretty  play, 

Pretty  little  angels; 

Hay,  hay,  hay! 
The  first  and  last  lines  are  sung  with  a  loud 
laugh. 

This  paper  was  extracted  partly  from  the  writ- 
ings of  Wm.  A.  Hammond,  professor  of  diseases 
of  the  mind  and  nervous  system  in  the  University  of 
New  York  City. 


Super^itions 


One  definition  given  of  superstition  is  a  belief 
in  what  is  absurd,  or  belief  without  evidence. 
Another  is  a  belief  in  the  direct  agency  of  superior 
powers,  in  certain  extraordinary  or  singular  events, 
or  in  omens  and  prognostics. 

In  primitive  times  the  sufferer  from  disease  was 
subjected  to  cruelties,  and  even  death,  in  order  to 
expel  the  demon  which  was  supposed  to  harrass  him. 
Among  savage  tribes,  as,  for  instance,  in  our  Ameri- 
can Indians,  the  loss  of  life  from  this  cause  was 
very  great,  perhaps  greater  than  from  their  frequent 
wars.  There  can  be  no  question  that,  next  after 
war,  superstition  was  the  most  oppressive-  evil  of 
early  peoples.  At  any  moment  a  person  might  be 
found  guilty  of  being  possessed  of  a  demon,  for 
which  the  treatment  was  usually  a  painful  death. 

I  may  say  in  the  beginning  that  it  is  only  by 
exposing  fallacies  that  we  can  hope  for  their  extinc- 
tion, but  this  is  no  easy  matter,  remembering  the 
axiom  that  ''there  is  no  truth,  however  pure  and 
sacred,  upon  which  falsehood  can  not  fasten  and 
ingraft  itself  therein." 

The  results  of  science  cannot  dispel  superstition 
in  the  ignorant,  from  the  view-point  of  the  supersti- 
tious man.  A  wagon  moving  without  horses,  a 
message  sent  without  wir'es,  or  a  train  propelled  by 
an  unseen  current  adds  to  the  miracle  of  it  all. 

I  will  quote  somewhat  extensively  from  Herbert 
Spencer  as  to  the  genesis  of  superstitions : 

"Comprehension  of  the  thoughts  generated  in 

•    64 


SUPBRSTITIONS  65 

primitive  man  by  his  converse  with  the  surrounding 
world  can  be  had  only  by  looking  at  the  surrounding 
world  from  his  standpoint,"  so  says  he.  ''None  can 
do  this  completely,  and  few  can  do  it  even  partially. 

''Men  find  it  hard  to  re-think  the  thoughts  of  the 
child;  still  harder  must  they  find  it  to  re-think  the 
thoughts  of  the  savage.  To  look  at  things  with  the 
eyes  of  absolute  ignorance  implies  a  self-suppression 
that  is  impracticable.  Nevertheless,  we  must  here 
do  our  best  to  conceive  of  the  surrounding  world  as 
it  appeared  to  the  primitive  man,  that  we  may  be 
able  the  better  to  interpret  the  evidence  available 
for  our  use." 

Guided  by  the  more  especial  doctrine  of  mental 
evolution,  we  may  help  ourselves  to  delineate  primi- 
tive ideas  in  some  of  their  leading  traits.  It  is  only 
a  few  examples  of  these  actions  of  the  mind  we 
can  take  up  in  a  paper  of  this  kind. 

"The  sky,  the  sun,  moon,  stars  and  clouds  appear 
and  disappear,  and  show  signs  of  alteration. 

"The  earth's  surface  supplies  various  instances 
of  the  disappearance  of  things  which  have  unac- 
countably appeared.  No\v  the  savage  sees  little 
pools  of  water  formed  by  the  rain-drops  coming 
from  a  source  he  cannot  reach,  and  now  in  a  few 
hours  the  gathering  liquid  has  made  itself  invisible. 
Here,  again,  is  a  fog;  perhaps  lying  isolated  in  the 
hollows,  perhaps  enwrapping  everything,  which 
came  awhile  since  and  presently  goes,  without  leav- 
ing a  trace  of  its  whereabouts.  These  and  many 
other  occurrences  show  transition  between  the  vis- 
ible and  the  invisible." 

Once  more  let  me  ask,  what  must  be  the  original 
conception  of  wind?  Into  this  seemingly  empty 
space  around  there,  from  time  to  time,  comes  an 
invisible  agent  which  bends  the  trees,  drives  along 
the  leaves,  disturbies  the  water,  and  which  he  feels 
moving  his  hair,  fanning  his  cheek,  and  now  and 


06  Sb'PURSTiriOXS 

then  pushing  his  body  with  a  force  he  has  some 
difticuky  in  overcoming.  What  may  be  the  nature 
of  this  agent  there  is  nothing  to  tell  him;  but  one 
thing  is  irresistably  thrust  on  his  consciousness — 
that  sounds  can  be  made,  things  about  him  can  be 
moved,  and  he  himself  can  be  buffeted  by  an  exist- 
ence he  can  neither  grasp  or  see. 

Significant  of  another  order,  from  time  to  time 
discloses  themselves  to  primitive  man;  for  instance, 
the  duality,  or  double  nature,  of  things.  Things 
have  obviously  two  states  of  existence.  What  about 
his  shadow  ?  By  a  child,  a  shadow  is  thought  of  as 
an  entity.  Williams  says  of  a  Fijian  little  girl  of 
seven  that  "she  did  not  know  what  a  shadow  was, 
and  could  not  receive  a  conception  of  its  true 
nature."  Primitive  man,  with  no  one  to  answer 
his  questions,  and  without  ideas  of  physical  causa- 
tion, necessarily  concludes  a  shadow  to  be  an  actual 
existence,  which  belongs  in  some  way  to  the  person 
casting  it.  With  primitive  man,  while  shadows  are 
conceived  as  belonging  to  material  things,  it  is 
found  they  are  capable  of  separation  therefrom,  as 
by  darkness,  for  instance.  We  find  it  stated  of  the 
Benin  negroes  that  they  regard  men's  shadows  as 
their  souls.  They  are  afraid  of  their  shadows,  as 
they  think  they  w^atch  all  their  actions.  Among 
the  Greenlanders,  a  man's  shadow  is  one  of  his  two 
souls — the  one  of  which  goes  away  from  his  body 
at  night.  Some  Fijians  speak  of  man  as  having 
two  spirits.  His  shadow  is  called  the  dark  spirit, 
which,  they  say,  at  death  goes  to  Hades.  The  other 
is  supposed  to  stay  near  the  place  where  a  man  dies. 

Let  any  one  ask  himself  what  would  be  his 
thought  if,  in  a  state  of  child-like  ignorance,  he  were 
to  pass  some  spot  and  to  hear  repeated  a  shout 
which  he  uttered?  AA^ould  he  not  inevitably  con- 
clude that  the  answering  shout  came  from  another 
person?     Succeeding  shouts  severally  repeated  with 


SUPERSTITIONS  67 

words  and  tones  like  his  own,  yet  without  visible 
source,  would  rouse  the  idea  that  this  person  was 
mocking  him,  and  at  the  same  time  concealing  him- 
self. Nothing  approaching  to  the  physical  explana- 
tion of  an  echo  can  be  framed  by  the  uncivilized 
man. 

To  identify  the  notions  exemplified  by  primitive 
man,  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider  the  meaning 
of  much  evidence  furnished  by  men  who  have 
advanced  beyond  the  savage  state,  advanced  even 
to  a  high  degree  of  civilization. 

As  religion  is  made  to  include  much  superstition, 
I  will  cite  a  few  cases  of  a  religious  character : 

An  account  is  given  of  the  casting  out  of  a  devil 
from  a  boy  named  Michael  Zilk  by  one  Father 
Aurelia.  The  exortist  accused  a  Protestant  woman, 
Frau  Herz,  of  having  conjured  the  devil  into  the 
boy,  and  denounced  her  as  a  witch,  and  was 
prosecuted  by  the  woman's  husband  for  defamation. 
The  trial  resulted  in  the  condemnation  of  the 
defendant.  The  case  derives  its  chief  interest  from 
the  testimony  of  two  ecclesiastical  experts,  both  of 
whom  approved  of  Father  Aurelia's  method.  ''That 
men  may  enter  into  a  league  with  Satan,"  is  said 
by  one,  "is  affirmed  both  by  the  scriptures  and  the 
teachings  of  the  Catholic  church."  As  regards  the 
boy,  the  Father  was  perfectly  justified  in  assuming 
that  he  was  possessed  with  a  devil,  since  all  the  signs 
favored  this  presumption,  such  as  sudden  paroxysm, 
abnormal  bodily  strength,  a  strange  dread  of  holy 
things,  and  demonical  ecstacy.  The  demon  becomes 
firmly  fixed  in  the  organism  and  uses  it  as  a  base 
of.  operations,  causing  the  individual  to  curse  and 
rage  and  foam,  using  his  tongue  to  speak  languages 
unknown  to  him,  endowing  his  muscles  with  pre- 
ternatural force.  The  Father  believed  that  the  dried 
pears  which  Frau  Herz  gave  the  boy  had  been 
the  means   of  conveying  the   demonical    infection. 


68  SUPURSririONS 

The  boy  doubtless  had  an  epileptic  fit,  which  was 
caused  by  the  pears. 

That  learned  doctors  of  theology  and  high 
church  dignitaries  should  be  willing  to  appear  before 
a  court  of  justice  at  the  present  day  with  such  expert 
testimony  as  this  is  a  curious  mental  phenomenon, 
and  a  remarkablle  instance  of  superstitious  survival. 

A  few  examples  may  be  cited  to  show  to  what 
extent  the  popular  belief  in  witchcraft,  demoniacal 
possession,  and  the  efficacy  of  conjurations  still 
prevails : 

In  the  spring  of  1894,  a  Hungarian  started  on  a 
bicycle  from  Bucharest  with  the  intention  of  making 
a  tour  through  the  Balkan  peninsula  to  Constanti- 
nople. He  was  overtaken  by  night,  and  stopped  at 
at  hovel  which  served  as  a  public  house,  and  after 
confiding  his  wheel  to  the  care  of  the  inn-keeper, 
who  took  charge  of  it  with  considerable  distrust, 
went  to  bed.  Very  soon  the  news  spread  abroad 
that  a  sorcerer  had  arrived  riding  on  a  magic  car 
drawn  by  invisible  spirits,  and  a  crowd  of  excited 
peasants  filled  the  inn,  under  the  direction  of  the 
priest,  who  sprinkled  the  bicycle  wath  holy  water 
and  abjured  the  demon  to  depart.  The  magic -car 
of  the  sorcerer  was  then  taken  out  of  doors  and 
demolished. 

The  results  of  such  superstitious  notions  are  not 
always  so  harmless.  Thus  a  peasant  living  near 
Florence,  in  Tuscany,  had  a  daughter  who  was  sub- 
ject to  severe  hysterical  convulsions.  The  parish 
priest  intimated  that  the  girl  was  probably  possessed 
with  a  devil.  One  day  the  peasant  and  his  daughter 
consulted  a  wise  woman,  famous  for  sorceries.  The 
old  watch  began  her  conjurations  dragging  herself 
over  the  floor  on  her  knees  and  howling  fearfully. 
Finally  she  ceased,  and  declared  that  the  conjura- 
tion had  been  successful.  "Now,  go  home,"  she 
added,  "and  heat  the  oven.     The  first  person  who 


SUPBRSriTIONS  69 

comes  to  your  door  will  be  the  one  who  has  caused 
your  daughter's  malady.  Thrust  this  person  into 
the  oven  in  the  presence  of  your  daughter,  and  there 
will  be  no  recurrence  of  the  disease."  Early  the 
next  morning  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  a 
voice  which  said,  "For  heaven's  sake,  give  me  a 
piece  of  bread !"  The  peasant  rushed  to  the  door, 
seized  the  beggar  woman,  and,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  put  her  into  the  heated  oven.  Two  milk- 
men passing  by  heard  her  cries,  and  rescued  her. 

The  measures  recently  devised  to  suppress  a 
witch  at  Lupest,  in  Hungary,  are  the  more  note- 
worthy, because  they  emanated  from  the  civil 
authorities.  The  death  of  an  old  woman  who  had 
the  reputation  of  being  in  solemn  covenant  with  the 
devil  was  the  occasion  of  public  rejoicing.  In  the 
midst  of  the  festivities,  it  was  announced  a  villager's 
cow  had  died  suddenly,  and  under  suspicious  cir- 
cumstances. The  common  council,  after  an  official 
investigation,  reported  that  the  cow  had  been 
bewitched  by  the  deceased  beldame,  and  in  order  to 
prevent  her  from  doing  further  harm,  commanded 
that  a  stallion  should  be  brought  and  made  to  leap 
over  her  grave.  The  horse,  however,  showed  signs 
of  fright,  and  refused  to  jump;  and  this  circum- 
stance greatly  added  to  the  public  excitement. 
Finally,  it  was  decreed  by  the  council  that  the  body 
of  the  witch  should  be  exhumed  and  stabbed  with 
red-hot  pitchforks.  This  proceeding  proved  effect- 
ive, and  the  old  hag  ceased  to  trouble  her  former 
neighbors. 

In  some  districts  of  Dalmatia,  it  is  still  custom- 
ary to  throw  all  the  women  in  the  water  on  a 
specified  day  to  see  whether  they  will  sink  or  swim. 
A  rope  is  attached  to  each  one  in  order  to  save  from 
drowning  those  who  prove  their  innocence  by  sink- 
ing.   The  witches  who  float  are  also  pulled  out,  and 


70  SUPBRSriTIONS 

are  made  to  promise  to  renounce  the  devil  on  pain 
of  being  stoned. 

One  of  the  most  characteristic  exhibitions  of 
reHgious  folly  and  frenzy  in  our  day  is  the  proces- 
sion of  Jumpers,  which  takes  place  yearly  in  Luxen- 
1)urg,  and  is  popularly  regarded  as  a  sure  cure  for 
epilepsy  and  St.  Vitus'  dance  and  other  maladies  of 
men  and  beasts.  This  procession  is  one  of  the  queer- 
est sights  that  have  been  witnessed  in  Christendom. 
The  men,  women  and  children  who  are  to  join  in 
the  choral  dance  (which  might  easily  be  mistaken 
for  a  Bacchanalian  orgy)  assembly  on  a  meadow 
near  the  town,  where  they  are  arranged  in  rows  or 
groups.  At  a  given  signal,  the  musicians  strike  up 
the  lively  tune  known  as  "AVillibrord's  Dance,"  and 
the  saltatory  movement  begins,  the  whole  mass 
moving  three  or  four  steps  forward  and  one  or  two 
steps  backward,  or  four  steps  to  the  right  and  the 
same  number  to  the  left  in  a  diagonal  direction. 
From  a  distance,  the  bobbing  and  swaying  throng 
resembles  the  swell  and  fall  of  a  restless  sea,  or  the 
bubling  and  boiling  w^ater  in  an  immense  caldron. 
In  this  manner  the  procession  moves  on  for  more 
than  two  hours,  through  the  streets  of  the  town  and 
up  the  sixty-two  steps  leading  to  the  parish  church, 
where  the  dance  is  kept  up  for  some  time  around  the 
tomb  of  St.  Willibrord.  The  dancers  join  hands,  or 
more  frequently  hold  together  by  means  of  a  hand- 
kerchief, for  the  sake  of  greater  freedom  of  motion. 
Here  and  there  an  old  man  may  be  seen  dragging 
along  an  infirm  son,  who  makes  desperate  attempts 
to  leap  with  the  rest;  or  a  stout  woman  gasping 
and  sweating  under  the  heavy  burden  of  a  paralytic 
daughter,  whom  she  bears  in  her  arms  as  she  bounds 
to  and  fro.  This  reminds  of  Slatter's  column  of 
dupes. 

It  is  said  that  this  custom  arose  from  an  epidemic 
of  St.  Vitus'  dance  which  broke  out  in  the  neighbor- 


SUPERSTITIONS  71 

hood,  that  caused  all  the  horses,  cows,  sheep  and 
goats  to  dance  in  their  stalls  and  to  refuse  to  eat. 
The  people  made  a  vow  to  dance  around  the  grave 
of  St.  Willibrord,  and  no  sooner  was  this  vow  ful- 
filled than  the  plague  ceased.  So  says  Professor  E. 
P.  Evans. 

Some  non-religious  modern  superstitions :  A 
great  many  believe  that  just  as  surely  as  the  fox, 
American,  English  or  German,  beheld  his  shadow 
on  the  second  day  of  February,  and,  beholding  it, 
shrank  back  to  his  hole,  so  surely  would  all  foxes, 
and  the  rest  of  us,  see  two  winters  in  one  year.  We 
of  America  have  changed  this  to  the  ground  hog, 
and  claim  if  he  sees  his  shadow,  he  retires  for  six 
weeks  longer — anyway,  the  second  day  of  February, 
it  seems,  controls  the  weather  for  a  time. 

And  who  has  not  heard  of  carrying  a  potato  or 
horse-chestnut  to  ward  off  Rheumatism?  Many 
mothers  believe  that  the  flannel  band  worn  about 
the  neck  to  cure  an  inflamed  throat  must  be  red, 
as  that  color  corresponds  to  the  color  of  the  malady. 
In  like  manner  the  carrot  is  held  in  esteem  in  the 
cure  of  Jaundice,  yellow  being  the  characteristic 
color  of  both.  The  carrot  is  suspended  in  the  room 
occupied  by  the  sufferer,  and  as  the  root  shrivels 
and  dries  up,  the  affection  is  removed.  Seven  drops 
of  blood  from  a  cat's  tail  is  an  ancient  remedy  for 
a  sufferer  with  Epilepsy. 

Many  persons  dread  going  on  a  journey  or 
cutting  out  a  garment  on  Friday.  This  reminds  us 
that  Dr.  Simms,  a  New  York  surgeon,  celebrated 
for  his  success,  used  to  choose  Friday  for  his  opera- 
tions, as  he  could  on  that  day  get  plenty  of  assist- 
ance, for  others  preferred  not  to  operate  on  that  day. 

The  dread  and  wonder  excited  by  the  phenomena 
of  the  elements,  or  the  discovery  of  anything 
unusual,  either  animate  or  inanimate,   suggests  to 


12  SUPERSTITIONS 

the  mind  the  existence  and  manifestation  of  Dieties. 
The  storm  is  caused  by  a  monster  bird,  the  move- 
ments of  whose  wings  produce  the  winds,  and  whose 
voice  is  heard  in  muttering  thunder.  Even  among 
civiHzed  peoples,  the  soil  of  the  mind  is  prolific  in 
the  cultivation  of  morbid  fancies.  It  is  not  surpris- 
ing, then,  at  this  late  day  that  the  folk-lore  and 
superstitions  of  one  part  of  the  country  may  have 
been  transported  into  another,  and  there  take  root 
and  become  incorporated  as  original.  We  are 
familiar  with  the  custom  of  having  eggs  served  at 
Easter  breakfast,  and  also  that  of  children  receiving 
presents  of  dyed  eggs;  sometimes  toy  rabbits  or 
hares,  made  of  soft,  fluffy  goods  and  stuffed  with 
cotton  or  sawdust,  were  also  given  as  presents. 
Children  were  told  that  the  hare  laid  the  eggs,  and 
nests  were  prepared  for  the  hare  to  lay  them  in. 
The  custom  olDtains  as  well  in  south  Germany, 
where  the  people  are  noted  for  attachment  to 
ancestral  customs.  I  may  say,  before  Christ  the 
Egyptians  dyed  ostrich  eggs. 

The  practice  of  nailing  a  horseshoe  against  the 
lintel  of  a  door  is  familiar  to  almost  everybody,  and 
it  is  thought  particularly  efficacious  in  warding  off 
bad  luck,  if  the  shoe  be  one  that  was  found  upon  the 
highway.  This  custom  obtains  more  especially 
among  the  negroes. 

Beliefs  and  superstitions  relating  to  snakes  are 
exceedingly  common.  A  very  common  belief  is  to 
the  effect  that  if  one  kills  the  first  snake  met  with 
in  the  spring,  no  others  will  be  observed  during  the 
remainder  of  the  year.  Occasionally  we  hear  of 
black  snakes  found  in  pastures,  where  they  suckle 
cows,  so  that  these  animals  daily  resort  to  certain 
localities  to  secure  relief  from  a  painful  abundance 
of  milk.  As  an  illustration  of  the  belief  in  the  trans- 
formation of  human  beings  into  serpents,  I  will 
relate  a  circumstance  said  to  have  occurred  during 


SUPERSTITIONS  73 

the  first  part  of  the  present  century.  So  says  W.  J. 
Hoffman : 

''Near  Trexlertown,  Lehigh  county,  Pennsyl- 
vania, dwelt  a  farmer  named  Weiler.  His  wife  and 
three  daughters  had,  by  some  means  or  other, 
incurred  the  enmity  of  a  witch,  who  lived  but  a  short 
distance  away,  when  the  latter,  it  is  supposed,  took 
her  revenge  in  the  following  manner :  Whenever 
visitors  came  to  the  Weiler  residence,  the  girls,  with- 
out any  premonition  whatever,  would  suddenly  be 
changed  into  snakes,  and  after  crawling  back  and 
forth  along  the  top  ridge  of  the  wainscoating  for 
several  minutes,  they  were  restored  to  their  natural 
form." 

Another  popular  fallacy  is  the  existence  of  the 
hoop  snake.  This  creature  is  usually  reported  as 
capable  of  grasping  the  tip  of  its  tail  with  its  mouth 
and,  like  a  hoop,  running  swiftly  along  in  pursuit 
of  an  unwelcome  intruder.  This  snake  is  believed, 
furthermore,  to  have  upon  its  tail  a  short,  poisonous 
horn,  and  that  if  it  should  strike  any  living  creature, 
death  would  result.  Even  if  it  should  strike  a  tree, 
it  will  wither  and  die. 

The  rattle  of  a  snake,  if  tied  to  a  string  and 
suspended  from  the  neck  of  a  child,  will  serve  to 
prevent  convulsions;  if  carried  by  an  adult,  it  will 
guard  against  Rheumatism ;  and  the  oil  is  employed 
as  a  remedy  for  deafness. 

Another  curious  superstition,  held  by  young 
men,  is  that  if  one  places  a  snake's  tongue  upon  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  beneath  the  glove,  it  will  cause 
any  girl,  regardless  of  her  previous  indifference,  to 
ardently  return  his  passion,  if  he  be  enabled  but 
once  to  take  her  hand  within  his  own. 

There  are  numerous  methods  of  treating  snake 
bites,  from  the  internal  use  of  liquors  to  the  applica- 
tion of  a  snake  or  mad  stone.  The  application  of 
this  remedy  gradually  led  to  its  employment  in  the 


74  SUPHRSriTlONS 

bite  of  mad  dogs.  The  prescription  for  the  so-called 
mad  stone  is  generally  as  follows :  Place  it  against 
the  wound  until  it  becomes  saturated  with  the  poison, 
when  it  will,  of  its  own  accord,  fall  off.  Then  boil 
it  in  milk  to  remove  the  poison,  and  repeat  the 
application  until  the  stone  refuses  to  adhere. 

"A  short  time  since,  I  examined  a  celebrated 
J^orth  Carolina  mad  stone,  one  that  had  widespread 
reputation,"  so  says  Dr.  Hoffman.  'This  stone  was 
of  the  size  and  form  of  an  ordinary  horse-chestnut, 
white  in  color,  and  consisted  of  feldspar,  a  hard 
mineral,  usually  found  in  granite.  It  possesses  no 
absorbent  properties  whatever,  and  its  reputed 
ability  to  extract  poison,  or  any  other  liquid,  was 
utterly  unworthy  of  a  second  thought." 

To  illustrate  the  esteem  in  which  these  substances 
are  held,  I  will  only  add  that,  in  1879,  ^  ^^^d  stone 
was  sold  to  a  druggist  in  Texas  for  $250.  The 
specimen  was  said  to  have  been  found  in  the  stom- 
ach of  a  deer. 

We  are  all  aware  of  the  frequency  with  which 
the  divining  rod  is  used  in  the  search  for  water. 

SUPERSTITION    IN    NEW^    YORK 

'Tn  New  York,  the  most  modern  of  all  large 
cities,  superstition  thrives,  gray  with  countless  cen- 
turies of  age,"  so  says  Mr.  Robert  Shackleton. 
''When  the  night  wind  wails  through  the  gorge-like 
streets  of  the  great  East  Side,  thousands  tremble, 
for  the  restless  cry  is  from  the*  souls  of  children 
unbaptized." 

Attention  was  drawn  two  years  ago  to  a  woman 
in  Ridge  street,  who  had  many  clients,  and  whose 
specialty  was  the  bringing  together  of  married  folk 
who  had  drifted  apart.  She  charged  $20  to  each 
v/ho  invoked  her  aid,  and  for  that  sum  she  exorcised 
the  evil  spirit,  through  whose  malignancy  the 
separation  had  come. 


SUPBR::iriTIONS  75 

One  is  taught  how  to  discover  a  witch  and  how 
to  banish  her,  and  also  some  remedies  against 
disease.  There  is  the  cure  of  toothache,  for  instance : 
One  is  told  to  take  a  new,  but  useless,  nail,  pick  the 
teeth  with  it,  then  drive  the  nail  into  a  rafter,  toward 
the  rising  sun,  where  no  sun  or  moon  shines,  and 
speak  at  the  first  stroke,  ''Toothache,  vanish !"  on 
the  second,  ''Toothache,  banish !"  on  the  third 
stroke,  "Toothache,  thither  fly!" 

If  one  would  be  secure  against  the  shot  of  a  gun, 
the  following  is  infallible :  "O,  Josophat !  O, 
Tomorath !  O,  Posorath !"  These  words  are  to  be 
pronounced  backwards  three  times. 

Have  you  the  stomach  ache?  Kiss  a  mule  and 
the  ache  will  vanish  while  you  are  showing  your 
affection  for  the  dumb  animal. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  think  the  superstitions 
of  New  York  obtain  among  the  ignorant  only.  The 
rich  and  well-to-do  dread  thirteen  at  table — the 
result  of  a  superstition  which  goes  back  to  the 
"Last  Supper,"  where  one  was  a  traitor.  Many,  in 
moving,  will  not  carry  away  a  broom. 

Many  count  it  unlucky  to  take  the  family  cat 
with  them  to  the  new  home.  There  is  a  Wall  Street 
broker  who  must  have  his  right  cheek  shaved  first, 
and  the  initial  stroke  must  be  upward.  A  certain 
horse-owner  is  confident  of  success  if,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  a  race  day,  he  accidentally  meets  a  cross-eyed 
man. 

Thus  we  perceive  that  the  mere  reference  to  the 
trifles  which  are  apt  to  control  our  actions  brings 
to  our  minds  such  a  startling  array  of  superstitions 
observed  by  us  in  others,  or  perhaps  entertained  by 
ourselves,  that  it  becomes  impractical  to  continue 
further  so  prplifip  a  subject  at  this  time. 


D 


reaming 


As  dreaming  takes  place  while  we  are  sleeping, 
it  is  desirable  to  say  a  few  words  concerning  sleep. 
Sleep  is  not  a  constant,  but  a  fluctuating  quantity. 
There  are  degrees  of  sleep,  so  many  intermediate 
steps  between  it  and  waking;  wherefore  we  may^ 
rightly,  be  said  to  graduate  through  a  twilight- 
waking  into  imperfect  sleep,  and  from  light  slumber 
into  profound  unconsciousness.  It  is  hard  to  say 
sometimes  whether  we  have  been  asleep  or  not,  for 
the  w^anderings  of  grotesque  ideas  are  so  like  dreams 
that  we  know  not  at  times  whether  they  were  a  part 
of  our  waking  or  of  our  sleeping  life. 

In  the  production  of  insensibility  by  the  inhala- 
tion of  chloroform,  we  observe  evidence  that  the 
person  hears  after  he  can  no  longer  see,  and  that 
the  senses  of  taste  and  smell  are  lost  before  those  of 
hearing  and  touch ;  and  in  natural  sleep  it  is  obvious 
that  there  are  similar  graduations  of  unconscious- 
ness, one  sense  being  sometimes  more  deeply  asleep 
than  another.  In  like  manner,  when  we  awake,  it 
seldom  happens  that  all  our  senses  awake  at  the 
same  instant;  indeed,  they  appear  commonly  to 
wake  successively.  It  ought  not  to  appear  strange, 
then,  that  in  some  dreams  active  imagination  is 
exhibited  and  skillful  bodily  feats  performed — a 
proof  that  some  mental  and  motor  centers  are  awake 
while  others  are  asleep.  It  has  been  a  disputed  ques- 
tion whether  sleep  is  ever  quite  dreamless,  and 
opposite  answers  to  it  have  been  propounded.  Some 
writers  hold  that  no  state  of  sleep,  however  sound 

76 


DREAMING  77 

it  is,  is  without  dreaming,  being  infected  in  some 
degree  by  the  Cartesian  dogma  that  the  mind  never 
can  be  entirely  inactive.  Another  tlieory  which  has 
been  broached  with  regard  to  dreaming  is  that  we 
only  dream  just  as  we  are  going  to  sleep,  or  just 
as  we  are  coming  out  of  it — in  the  transition  state 
into  and  out  of  sleep.  But  this  opinion  seems,  on 
examination,  to  be  less  tenable  than  the  opinion  that 
we  never  cease  to  dream  when  we  are  asleep. 

''The  weight  of  evidence,"  so  says  Maudsley, 
''in  a  case  which,  by  the  nature  of  things,  cannot  be 
decided,  I  believe  to  be  on  the  side  of  the  opinion 
that  the  soundest  sleep  is  a  dreamless  sleep."  This 
opinion  is  confirmed  by  cases  of  suspended  anima- 
tion, as,  for  instance,  when  a  person  is  taken  out 
of  the  water  in  a  completely  unconscious  state,  and 
revives  only  after  energetic  efforts  at  restoration 
continued  for  an  hour,  or  even  for  hours,  it  is  as 
certain  as  anything  can  well  be  that  all  mental 
function  was  abolished  from  the  moment  he  became 
insensible  unto  the  moment  when  sensibility 
returned. 

Take,  again,  the  remarkable  case  of  a  blow  on 
the  head,  producing  depression  of  the  skull,  pressure 
upon  the  brain  therefrom,  and  insensibility  there- 
with, with  the  raising  of  the  depressed  bone  by 
surgical  means.  The  person  has  not  only  regained 
consciousness  instantly,  but  has  gone  on  to  finish  a 
sentence  begun  when  he  was  struck  down  uncon- 
scious. In  cases  of  this  kind,  there  is  not  the  least 
reason  to  suspect  that  there  is  any  mental  function 
going  on. 

While  this  may  all  be  true,  it  does  not  confirm 
the  theory  of  the  entire  absence  of  all  mental  activity 
in  the  natural  brain  during  sleep,  as  these  were 
abnormal  conditions;  at  the  same  time  I  am 
inclined  to  the  opinion  of  Maudsley,  that  in  sound 
sleep  mental  activity  entirely  ceases.     Others,  how- 


78  DREAMING 

ever,  take  a  different  view  of  the  matter.  It  should 
be  remembered  that  dreams  are  readily  forgotten. 
One  may  say  he  has  not  dreamed  at  all,  when  it  is 
evident  he  has,  both  from  the  expression  of  his 
countenance  during  sleep,  as  observed  by  others, 
and  words  spoken ;  for  lightly  sleeping  ]^>ersons  will 
answer  questions  cautiously  put  to  them;  in  fact,  a 
conversation  may  be  carefully  carried  on  with  a  sleep- 
ing person,  who,  when  he  awakes,  will  remember 
nothing  of  it.  We  know  that  while  the  body  is 
awake,  the  mind  is  always  active.  Does  this  activ- 
ity entirely  cease  during  the  period  of  sleep?  The 
phenomena  of  certain  varieties  of  trance  indicate 
that  the  mere  semblance  of  death  is  not  incompatible 
with  great  mental  activity.  In  like  manner,  the 
phenomena  of  dreams  serve  to  prove  that  various 
intellectual  processes,  such  as  memory,  imagination, 
attention,  emotion,  and  even  volition,  may  still  be 
exercised  while  every  external  special  sense  is  closed 
by  sleep.  The  result  of  the  exercise  of  mental  activ- 
ity under  such  conditions  constitutes  a  dream. 

The  fact  that  observers  who  have  made  trial 
in  their  own  persons  have  always  found  themselves 
engaged  with  the  details  of  a  dream  when  suddenly 
awakened  from  deep  sleep  has  been  supposed  to 
afford  valuable  proof  of  the  proposition  that  the 
mind  is  never  wholly  inactive  durino-  the  deepest 
sleep.  To  say  nothing  of  the  significance  of  certain 
somnambulic  states,  in  which  intelligence  evidently 
exists  for  a  long  period  of  time,  without  leaving 
any  subsequent  trace  in  memory,  the  mere  fact  that 
we  remember  very  few  of  the  events  that  occupy  the 
mind  in  dreams  cannot  be  urged  against  the  doctrine 
of  continuous  mental  action,  for  we  remember  very 
few  of  the  images  and  ideas  that  have  stirred  the 
depths  of  consciousness  during  the  waking  state. 
Our  recollection  of  dreams  is  exceedingly  variable. 
Sometimes  we  retain  in  memory  all  the  events  of  a 


DREAMING  79 

long  and  complicated  vision,  but  usually,  though 
entranced  by  the  vivid  beauty  of  the  spectacle  that 
unrolls  its  splendor  before  the  eye  of  the  mind  in 
sleep,  and  though  the  intensity  of  its  seeming  action 
may  be  sufficient  to  awaken  the  dreamer,  who  recalls 
each  incident  as  he  reviews  the  picture  during  the 
first  waking  moments,  the  impression  soon  fades, 
and  the  coming  day  finds  him  incapable  of  reproduc- 
ing a  single  scene  from  the  nocturnal  drama. 

Men  little  consider  how  mechanical  they  are  in 
their  thoughts,  feelings  and  doings.  So  fully  pos- 
sessed are  they  with  the  fixed,  but  erroneous,  notion 
that  consciousness  is  the  essential  agent  in  all  the 
purposive  things  which  they  do  that  they  stand 
amazed  when  they  watness  any  evidence  of  intelli- 
gent action  during  the  abeyance  of  consciousness,  as 
in  sleep,  and  look  upon  it  as  marvelous,  because  they 
were  not  lit  up  by  consciousness.  The  mere  fact  that 
we  were  not  conscious  of  dreaming  is  no  evidence 
that  we  did  not  dream.  How  much  of  our  thinking 
and  feeling  goes  on  when  we  are  awake  of  which 
we  are  unconscious?  It  seems,  in  fact,  that  only  a 
minimum  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings  affect  our 
consciousness.  When  our  thoughts  attain  a  certain 
intensity,  we  do  become  conscious  of  them,  and  then 
it  is  only  for  an  instant,  when  they  subside  below 
consciousness  again,  but  the  process  of  unconscious 
thinking  goes  on.  This  kind  of  thinking  constitutes 
a  large  part  of  our  thinking  lives.  Hour  after  hour 
of  this  kind  of  drifting,  or  reverie,  passes  on,  and  it 
is  only  occasionally  that  we  ask  ourselves  where  we 
are  at,  then  relapse  again  into  unconscious  drifting. 

If  this  takes  place  while  we  are  awake,  why  may 
it  not  take  place  when  we  are  asleep?  The  fact 
that  we  are  not  conscious  of  dreaming  is  no  argu- 
ment that  we  are  not,  or  that  our  minds  are  not, 
active,  however  soundly  we  may  be  sleeping.  Very 
much  of  our  mental  activity  takes  place  below  the 


80  DREAMING 

level  of  consciousness,  whether  awake  or  sleeping. 
Accurate  and  logical  thinking  or  reasoning  does  not 
need  the  cognizance  or  aid  of  consciousness.  As 
thinking  and  reasoning  are  done  by  the  aid  of  certain 
laws  of  association  of  ideas,  of  which  consciousness 
gives  no  testimony,  consciousness,  in  fact,  may  inter- 
fere with  these  processes  by  distracting  the  mind. 
Example:  If  we  have  forgotten  some  lines  of  a 
poem  and  set  to  work  consciously  to  recall  them,  we 
are  likely  not  to  succeed,  whereas  if  we  give  over  our 
minds  to  unconscious  efforts,  we  are  more  likely  to 
have  them  hunted  up  for  us ;  for  consciousness  does 
not  govern  our  lines  of  thought.  They  are  controlled 
by  other  agencies.  Why,  then,  should  it  be  consid- 
ered a  strange  thing  that  the  courses  of  our  dreams 
should  proceed  without  such  agencies?  They  do 
proceed  with  only  imperfect  control  of  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas,  or  any  control  imposed  through  the  aid 
of  consciousness,  and  with  only  imperfect  control  of 
the  will,  and  these  are  the  reasons  wdiy  they  proceed 
in  a  strangely  incongruous  way. 

A  certain  amount  of  volition,  or  will  power,  is 
supposed  to  go  along  with  dreams,  but  it  is  insuffi- 
cient to  control  the  course  of  our  trains  of  thought. 
Neither  is  the  influence  of  the  laws  of  association  of 
ideas,  which,  as  Maudsley  says,  is  only  another 
phrase  for  the  force  of  habits  of  thinking.  There  is 
not  an  entire  suspension  of  volitional  control  over 
the  current  of  thought,  but  only  an  imperfect  suspen- 
sion. 

'T  have  been  brought,  on  two  or  three  occasions, 
to  the  very  verge  of  being  hanged  in  my  dreams," 
says  Maudsley,  "having  waked  up  at  the  last  moment 
before  the  operation  was  to  be  performed,  and  on 
each  occasion  I  have  been  conscious  of  a  determined 
suppression  of  any  betrayal  of  fear." 


DREAMING  81 

CHARACTER    OF    OUR   DREAMS 

"Our  dreams  are  as  variable  as  the  clouds  that 
drift  upon  the  currents  of  the  air,  as  on  a  hot  day 
in  summer,"  so  says  Henry  M.  Lyman,  ''when  the 
steady  equatorial  draught  has  ceased  to  guide  the 
wind,  we  may  observe  all  manner  of  local  tides  in 
the  masses  of  vapor  which  arise  from  the  earth;  so 
in  sleep,  when  the  quieting  mfluence  of  the  senses 
is  withdrawn  from  the  brain,  the  ideas  that  still  arise 
are  chiefly  dependant  on  the  habitual  and  reflex 
action  for  their  origin  and  association.  Undis- 
turbed by  impulses  from  the  external  world,  the 
brain  seems  then  more  sensitive  to  impressions  that 
originate  within  the  body." 

An  overloaded  stomach,  an  enfeebled  heart,  or 
an  irritable,  nervous  ganganglion  may  become  the 
source  of  irregular  and  uncompensated  movements 
which  may  invade  the  brain,  and  there  set  in  motion 
a  whole  battery  of  mechanisms  whose  influence  upon 
consciousness  would  be  quite  unnoticed  were  the 
external  senses  in  full  operation. 

''It  has  been  well  remarked,"  so  says  Carpenter, 
"that  nothing  surprises  us  in  dreams.  All  probabili- 
ties of  time,  place  and  circumstances,  are  violated; 
the  dead  pass  before  us  as  if  alive  and  well ;  even 
the  sages  of  antiquity  hold  personal  converse  with 
us ;  our  friends  upon  the  antipodes  are  brought  upon 
the  scene,  or  we  ourselves  are  conveyed  thither,  with- 
out the  least  perception  of  the  intervening  distance ; 
and  occurrences,  such  as  in  our  waking  state  would 
excite  the  strongest  emotions,  may  be  contemplated 
without  the  slightest  feeling  of  a  painful  or  pleasur- 
able nature.  Facts  and  events  long  since  forgotten 
in  the  waking  state  and  remaining  only  as  latent 
impressions  in  the  brain,  present  themselves  to  the 
mind  of  the  dreamer;  and  many  instances  have 
occurred  in  which  the  subsequent  retention  of  the 


82  -         DREAMING 

knowledge  thus  re-acquired  has  led  to  most  import- 
ant results." 

Thus  Candorcet  saw  in  his  dreams  the  final  steps 
of  a  difficult  calculation  which  had  puzzled  him  dur- 
ing the  day;  and  Condillac  tells  us  that  when 
engaged  in  his  studies,  he  frequently  developed  and 
finished  a  sul)ject  in  his  dreams  which  he  had  broken 
off  before  retiring  to  rest. 

RAPIDITY    OF    DREAMING 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  all  the  peculiari- 
ties in  the  state  of  dreaming  is  the  rapidity  with 
which  trains  of  thought  pass  through  the  mind,  for 
a  dream  in  wdiich  a  long  series  of  events  has  seemed 
to  occur  and  a  multitude  of  images  has  been  suc- 
cessively raised  up — in  fact,  a  tragedy  or  comedy  of 
several  acts  is  devised  and  performed  in  a  moment  or 
a  few  seconds — although  whole  years  may  seem  to 
have  elapsed.  ''He  assists,  happy  or  distressed, 
applauding  or  condemning,  at  a  spectacle  which  is 
all  his  own  creation,  and  has  not  the  will  or  the 
power  to  modify  its  course  to  any  great  extent." 
There  would  not  appear,  in  truth,  to  be  any  limit  to 
the  amount  of  thought  which  may  thus  pass  through 
the  mind  of  the  dreamer  in  an  interval  so  brief  as  to 
be  scarcely  capable  of  measurement;  as  is  obvious 
from  the  fact  that  a  dream  involving  a  long  succes- 
sion of  supposed  events  has  often  distinctly  origi- 
nated in  a  sound  which  has  also  awoke  the  sleeper, 
so  that  the  whole  must  have  passed  during  the  almost 
inappreciable  period  of  transition  between  the  previ- 
ous state  of  sleep  and  the  full  waking  consciousness. 

CONSCIOUSNESS    THAT    WE    ARE    DREAMING 

There  may  be  a  distinct  feeling  that  we  are 
dreaming.  We  may  say  to  ourselves,  "It  is  only  a 
dream,"  and  we  may  doubt  the  reality  of  the  images 
which  flit  before  the  mental  vision.     If  this  feeling 


DREAMING  83 

becomes  stronger,  it  probably  will  awaken  us.  Yet 
we  may  make  a  voluntary  and  successful  effort  to 
prolong  them,  if  agreeable,  or  to  dissipate  them,  if 
unpleasihg,  thus  evincing  the  possession  of  a  certain 
degree  of  that  directing  power,  the  entire  want  of 
which  is  the  characteristic  of  the  true  state  of 
dreaming. 

LOSS    OF    IDENTITY 

It  is  impossible  there  can  be  full  use  of  reflection 
when  most  of  the  habitual  trains  of  thought  are  sus- 
pended in  sleep.  For  this  reason  the  sense  of  per- 
sonal identity,  the  unity  of  individual  character,  is 
confused  and  seemingly  lost.  We  are  ourselves  and 
somebody  else  at  the  same  moment,  as  other  persons 
seem  to  be  themselves  and  not  themselves,  and  we  do 
absurd  and  perhaps  transcendently  criminal  things  in 
the  most  matter-of-fact  way,  all  the  while  mildly 
surprised,  or  not  at  all  surprised,  at  ourselves  for 
doing  them.  For  the  absence  of  surprise  at  the 
extraordinary  events  which  take  place  in  dreams  is 
sometimes  very  remarkable.  But  it  is  not  always  com- 
plete. In  some  instances  there  is  only  a  partial  sur- 
prise. It  is  probable  that  wdien  we  begin  in  our 
dreams  to  be  surprised  at  the  change  of  identity,  and 
to  think  about  it  as  odd,  we  are  on  the  point  of 
waking. 

But  it  seems  that  throughout  all  the  vagueness  of 
dreaming  there  is  generally  at  bottom  an  obscure 
feeling  or  instinct  of  identity,  or  else  we  should  not 
ever  be  surprised  at  ourselves  when  we  seem  to  be 
not  ourselves. 

The  reason  I  believe  to  be  that  the  body  preserves 
its  identity,  notwithstanding  that  our  conscious  func- 
tions are  in  the  greatest  distractions.  Yet  our  differ- 
ent impressions,  organic  or  systemic,  are  carried  to 
the  brain  from  the  internal  organs,  and  it  is  this 
physiological  unity  of  organic  or  bodily  functions, 


84  DREAMING 

which  is  suniethiiig  deeper  than  consciousness,  and 
constitutes  our  fundamental  personaHty,  that  makes 
itself  felt  with  more  or  less  force  in  every  conscious 
state,  dreaming  or  waking.  There  is  philosophy  in 
this  because  it  indicates  that  all  the  organs  of  the 
body  are  connected  directly  with  the  brain  and  indi- 
rectly with  each  other,  and  that  our  sense  of  identity 
or  unity  grows  out  of  this  nervous  connection. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  in  dreaming  there  is 
loss  of  the  faculty  of  combining  and  arranging  ideas. 
True  it  is,  that  there  is  usually  a  loss  of  the  faculty 
of  combining  and  arranging  them  as  we  do  when  we 
are  awake;  but  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features 
of  dreaming  is  the  singular  power  of  combining  and 
arranging  ideas  into  the  most  vivid  dramas.  The 
same  sort  of  thing  occurs  in  the  waking  state,  when 
the  succession  of  thoughts  is  not  controlled  by  reflec- 
tion upon  some  definite  subject,  and  it  constitutes 
the  chief  part  of  the  mental  activity  of  a  great  num- 
ber of  persons  who  spend  their  time  in  vacant  reverie 
or  in  rambling  incongruities  of  ideas.  Were  a  faith- 
ful record  kept  of  the  fantastical  play  of  ideas  under 
these  circumstances,  it  would  often  read  as  wild  as 
any  dream.  The  point,  however,  which  I  desire  to 
lay  stress  upon  and  to  fix  attention  to  here  is  the 
tendency  of  ideas,  how^ever  unrelated,  to  come 
together  and  to  form  some  sort  of  mental  imagery, 
wildly  absurd  or  more  or  less  conformable  to  nature 
— the  actual  constructive  power  which  they  evince — 
for  it  plainly  indicates  that  the  plastic  power  of 
mind — its  so-called  imagination — is  at  bottom  func- 
tion of  the  supreme  brain  centers — something  which, 
being  displayed  when  will  is  in  abeyance  and  con- 
sciousness a  mere  gleam  whenever  there  is  the  least 
display  of  brain  mental  function,  must  plainly  lie 
beneath  consciousness  and  beneath  will.  It  is,  if 
you  please,  unconscious  mental  function. 

"He  who  makes  it  a  rule  through  life  to  take 


DREAMING  85 

care  that  what  he  puts  away  in  his  mind  and  accumu- 
lates (for  there  is  a  singular  power  in  the  dreamer 
of  recollection,  of  which  he  has  not  the  least  remem- 
berance  in  the  waking  state — he  can  lay  under  con- 
tribution the  long  unused  stories  of  memory  and 
reproduce  them  with  a  surprising  vividness  and 
accuracy — there  is  not,  in  fact,  a  corner  in  the  brain 
in  which  there  is  a  memory  registered  that  may  not 
rise  into  unwonted  activity  and  remarkable  vividness 
in  the  dreams,  so  that  he  who  takes  care  what  he 
stores  up)  is  a  treasure  of  pure  and  good  materials 
will  do  much  toward  making  the  dreams  that  will 
haunt  his  sleep  in  the  later  years  of  life  not  only 
tolerable,  but,  as  far  as  night  thoughts  can  subserve 
any  useful  or  beneficial  purpose,  will  improve  his 
time  well  and  will  be  rewarded  later  in  this  life  for 
being  good  in  his  earlier  years." 

Herbert  Spencer,  an  eminent  philosopher,  was 
of  the  opinion  that,  in  primitive  man,  ideas  about 
spirits  and  an  after  life  arose  from  dreams.  Says 
he :  *'A  conception  which  is  made  so  familiar  to  us, 
during  education,  that  we  mistake  it  for  an  original 
and  necessary  one  is  the  conception  of  mind,  as  an 
internal  existence  distinct  from  body.  Yet,  if  we 
ask  what  is  given  in  experience  to  the  untaught 
human  being,  we  find  that  there  is  nothing  to  tell 
him  of  any  such  existence.  But  until  there  is  a  con- 
ception as  an  internal  principle  of  activity,  there  can 
be  no  such  conception  of  dreams  as  we  have.'' 

The  sleeper,  on  awaking,  recalls  various  occur- 
rences, and  repeats  them  to  others.  He  thinks  he 
has  been  elsewhere ;  witnesses  say  he  has  not ;  and 
their  testimony  is  verified  by  finding  himself  where 
he  was  when  he  went  to  sleep.  The  simple  course  is 
to  believe  both  that  he  has  remained  and  that  he  has 
been  away ;  that  he  has  two  individualities — one  of 
which  leaves  the  other  and  presently  comes  back. 
He,  too,  has  a  double  existence.     The  North  Ameri- 

7- 


86  DREAMING 

can  Indians  think  there  are  duplicate  souls,  one  of 
which  remains  with  the  body,  while  the  other  is  free 
to  depart  on  excursions  during  sleep.  The  theory 
in  New  Zealand  is  that  during  sleep  the  mind  leaves 
the  body  and  that  dreams  are  the  objects  seen  during 
its  wanderings.  Among  the  Hill-tribes  of  India, 
the  same  doctrine  is  held,  their  statement  being  that 
in  sleep  it  (the  spirit)  wanders  away  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  and  our  dreams  are  what  it  experiences  in 
its  perambulations.  The  Sandwich  Islanders  say  the 
departed  member  of  a  family  appears  to  the  sur- 
vivors sometimes  in  a  dream.  In  East  Africa  they 
believe  the  spirits  of  the  dead  appear  to  the  living  in 
dreams.  The  Zulus  believe  that  the  persons  who 
appear  in  dreams  are  real.  Enough  has  been  said 
to  show  that  dream  experiences  are  the  experiences 
out  of  which  the  conception  of  a  mental  self  event- 
ually grows. 

One  of  the  experiences  suggesting  another  life 
is  the  appearance  of  the  dead  in  dreams.  Manifestly 
the  dead  person  recognized  in  dreams  must  be  per- 
sons who  were  known  to  the  dreamers.  Savages 
who  like  the  Mangamjas  expressly  ground  their 
belief  in  a  future  life  on  the  fact  that  their  friends 
visit  them  in  their  sleep. 


Moral  Insanity 


The  word  insanity  is  repulsive,  yet  the  study  of 
the  different  forms  of  that  disorder  throws  great 
hght  upon  the  normal  workings  of  the  mind.  But 
to  understand  its  abnormal  workings,  it  is  necessary 
to  have  considerable  knowledge  of  its  normal  func- 
tions, greater  than  most  persons  possess.  To  under- 
stand moral  insanity,  however,  such  knowledge  is 
not  essential ;  the  knowledge  necessary  is  that  of 
good  and  evil ;  hence  moral  insanity  is  a  much  more 
suitable  subject  for  a  popular  lecture.  Although, 
when  moral  insanity  is  fully  developed,  it  consti- 
tutes man  a  monster. 

Moral  insanity  is  a  term  frequently  used  to 
denote  vicious  or  criminal  instincts  in  a  person  who 
is  mentally  little  defective.  The  term  was  originated 
nearly  half  a  century  ago  by  an  Englishman,  Dr. 
Prichard,  who  declared  that  insanity  exists  some- 
times with  an  apparently  unimpaired  state  of  the 
intellectual  faculties;  and  the  conception  has  been 
developed  by  many  of  the  best  observers  of  mental 
diseases.  There  is,  however,  a  tendency  to  drop 
the  expression  "moral  insanity,"  and  to  speak  instead 
of  ''moral  imbecility." 

The  condition  in  question  is  described  by  alienists 
as  an  incapacity  to  feel  or  to  act  in  accordance  with 
the  moral  conditions  of  social  life.  Such  persons,  it 
is  said,  are  morally  blind;  the  mental  retina  has 
become  benumbed.  The  moral  imbecile  is  indiffer- 
ent to  the  misfortunes  of  others  and  to  the  opinions 
of  others.     Although  defective  on  the  moral  side, 

87 


88  MORAL    INSANITY 

these  persons  are  well  able  to  make  use  of  the 
intellectual  conceptions  of  honor,  morality,  and 
philanthropy.  Such  words  are  frequently  on  their 
lips,  and  it  is  quite  impossible  to  convince  them  of 
the  unusual  character  of  their  own  acts.  They  are 
absolutely  and  congenitally  incapable  of  social  educa- 
tion, systematically  hostile  to  every  moralizing  influ- 
ence. Being  themselves  morally  blind,  it  is  their 
firm  conviction  that  all  others  are  in  the  same 
condition. 

It  is  obvious  that  these  symptoms  closely  resem- 
ble those  described  as  characterizing  the  criminal  in 
his  most  clearly  marked  form — the  instinctive  crimi- 
nal. There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  two  groups 
overlap  in  a  very  large  degree. 

A  couple  of  cases  will  help  to  throw  light  upon 
the  subject : 

"A  single  lady  of  forty-five  was  of  good  social 
position,  yet  her  appearance  was  anything  but  attrac- 
tive. She  was  withered,  sallow,  blear-eyed,  with  an 
eminently  unsteady  and  untrustworthy  eye.  So 
improper  and  immoral  was  her  conduct  that  she  was 
obliged  to  live  apart  from  her  family  in  lodgings,  for 
she  seemed  incapable,  in  certain  regards,  of  any  con- 
trol over  her  propensities.  No  appeal  was  of  any 
avail  to  induce  her  to  alter  her  mode  of  life.  She 
was  prone  to  burn  little  articles,  impulsively  throw- 
ing them  in  the  fire,  saying  that  she  could  not  help 
it,  and  then  cutting  and  pricking  her  own  flesh  by 
way  of  penance. 

"When  reasoned  or  remonstrated  with  about  her 
foolish  tricks,  she  professed  to  feel  them  to  be  very 
absurd,  expressed  great  regret,  and  talked  with 
exceeding  plausibility  about  them,  as  though  she  was 
not  responsible  for  them.  It  was  of  no  use  whatever 
speaking  earnestly  with  her,  since  she  admitted  her 
folly,  and  spoke  of  it  with  the  resigned  air  of  an 


MORAL    INSANITY  89 

innocent  victim.  Her  habits  were  unwomanly  and 
offensive." 

Coulston  reports  the  case  of  a  lady  who,  by  a 
series  of  extraordinary  misrepresentations  and  clever 
impostures,  raised  large  sums  of  money  on  no  secur- 
ity whatever,  and  spent  them  as  recklessly ;  imposed 
on  jewelers  so  that  they  trusted  her  with  goods 
worth  hundreds  of  pounds ;  furnished  grand  houses 
at  the  expense  of  trusting  upholsterers;  introduced 
herself  by  open  impudence  to  one  great  nobleman 
after  another,  and  then  introduced  her  dupes,  who, 
on  the  faith  of  these  distinguished  social  connections, 
at  once  disgorged  money.  To  one  person  she  was 
a  great  literary  character,  to  another  of  royal 
descent,  to  another  she  had  immense  expectations,  to 
another  she  was  a  stern  religionist.  At  last  all  this 
lying,  cheating,  scheming  and  imposture  developed 
into  marked  brain  disease,  and  finally  the  cause  of 
her  boldness,  cunning  and  mendacity  become  evi- 
dent. 

This  case  reminds  us  of  Mrs.  Cassie  Chadwick, 
concerning  whose  form  of  suspected  moral  insanity 
we  shall  have  to  wait  further  developments. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  these  women  so  lost  to 
all  sense  of  the  obligations  and  responsibilities  of 
their  positions  could  not  restrain  their  immoral 
extravagances  and  vicious  acts  for  any  length  of 
time.  They  knew  quite  well  the  difference  between 
right  and  wrong,  but  no  motive  could  be  roused  in 
their  minds  to  induce  them  to  pursue  the  right  and 
eschew  the  wrong.  Their  conduct  revealed  the 
tyranny  of  a  vicious  organization  whose  natural 
affinities  were  evilwards.  Naturally,  therefore,  such 
patients  feel  no  shame,  regret,  nor  remorse,  for. their 
conduct,  however  flagrant,  unbecoming  and  immoral 
it  may  be, — never  think  that  they  are  to  blame,  and 
consider  themselves  ill-treated  by  their  relatives 
when  they  are  interfered  with.   They  cannot  be  fitted 


90  MORAL    INSANITY 

for  social  intercourse.  Friends  may  remonstrate, 
entreat  and  l)lame,  and  punishment  may  be  allowed 
to  take  its  course,  but  in  the  end  both  friends  and 
all  who  know  them  recognize  the  hopelessness  of 
improvement,  and  acknowledge  that  they  must  be 
placed  under  control. 

I  will  now  give  the  history  of  a  more  decisive 
and  significant  example  of  this  same  moral  insensi- 
bility : 

"It  was  in  a  child — a  school  girl,  twelve  years 
of  age.  At  her  trial,  there  was  not  the  slightest 
emotion  or  deep  excitement.  When  questions  were 
put  to  her  of  a  very  serious  character,  she  remained 
self-possessed,  lucid  and  childlike.  Said  she :  'My 
mother  has  several  times  whipped  me  for  naughti- 
ness, and  it  is  right  that  I  should  take  away  the  stick 
with  which  she  beat  me,  and  to  beat  her.' 

"  'Sometime,'  to  use  her  own  language,  'in 
playing  in  the  yard,  I  came  behind  a  child,  held  his 
eyes,  and  asked  him  who  I  was.  I  pressed  my 
thumbs  deeply  in  his  eyes,  so  that  he  cried  out  and 
had  inflamed  eyes.  I  knew  that  I  hurt  him,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  crying,  I  did  not  let  go  until  I  was  made 
to.  When  I  was  a  little  child  I  have  stuck  forks  in 
the  eyes  of  rabbits,  and  afterwards  slit  open  their 
bodies. 

"  'In  going  on  an  errand,  I  met  little  Margarette 
Detrich,  who  was  three  years  old.  I  had  known  her 
a  few  months.  I  wanted  to  take  away  her  earrings. 
I  went  with  her  up  the  stairs  to  the  second  floor,  to 
take  them  from  her,  and  then  to  throw  her  out  of 
the  window.  I  wanted  to  kill  her  because  I  was 
afraid  she  would  betray  me.  I  opened  the  window 
and  put  the  child  on  the  ledge,  with  her  feet  hanging 
out  and  her  face  turned  away  from  me.  I  took  the 
earrings  and  put  them  in  my  pocket.  Then  I  gave 
the  child  a  shove,  and  heard  her  strike  the  lamp,  and 
then  the  basement.     I  was  not  sorry.     I  was  not 


MORAL    INSAXITY  91 

sorry  all  the  time  I  was  in  prison.  I  am  not  sorry 
now.'  " 

This  was  a  case  of  well-marked  moral  insanity. 
In  this  case,  the  child's  father  was  not  known  to  the 
physicians,  and  no  taint  of  insanity  was  found ;  but 
in  a  host  of  other  cases  of  like  nature,  insanity  was 
known  to  have  been  present  in  the  ancestors.  Moral 
insanity  is  pre-eminently  hereditary.  Good  qualities 
are  well  known  to  be  so. 

Darwin  says,  ''if  a  variation  is  an  advantage  to 
an  animal  in  the  struggle  for  life,  it  is  transmitted 
by  hereditary;"  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe 
that  bad  characteristics  are  so  transmitted  also. 

The  general  belief  of  pathologists  is  that  very 
many  diseases  are,  to-wit:  Syphilis  and  Consump- 
tion. The  wisest  of  philosophers,  such  as  Herbert 
Spencer  and  Darwin,  and  pathologists  and  special- 
ists in  nervous  diseases  such  as  ^laudsley,  Lombroso, 
and  almost  all  neurologists,  are  firmly  convinced  that 
most  nervous  diseases  are  so  transmitted.  This  is 
true  of  insanity  in  most  forms,  but  more  especially 
of  moral  insanity. 

The  following  account  of  moral  imbecility  was 
of  a  child  : 

"My  first  experience  of  Alice,"  so  says  the 
WTiter,  "was  when  she  was  four  and  a  half  years 
old.  Her  infancy  was  tenderly  cared  for,  not  only 
by  her  father  but  by  his  mother.  I  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  teaching  her  to  read  antl  count.  It  was  at 
this  time  I  became  impressed  with  the  feeling  that 
she  was  not  as  other  children.  Coaxing  and  punish- 
ment were  alike  unavailing. 

''At  five  and  a  half  years  old,  she  was  sent  to  a 
good  school,  where  she  now  is.  Her  mental  progress 
has  surprised  me,  especially  in  certain  branches  of 
study,  but  her  moral  nature  remains  entirely  as 
before.  There  seems  to  be  no  appreciation  of  the 
nature  of  truth  in  her,  no  sorrow  for  naughtiness, 


92  MORAL    INSANITY 

no  wish  or  pleasure  to  be  good,  Ijut  a  great  acuteness 
in  slyly  persisting  in  what  she  has  been  told  not  to 
do.  There  appear  to  be  times  when  she  is  indelicate 
in  her  person,  dirty  in  her  habits,  and  generally 
inclined  to  be  vicious.  She  is  rarely,  if  ever,  pas- 
sionate, but  w^ill  w^alk  quietly  up  to  a  brother  or  sis- 
ter and  either  slap  or  knock  them  down  without  any 
provocation.  She  does  things  which  show  a  distress- 
ing want  of  moral  susceptibility.  " 

Her  maternal  uncle  is  in  an  asylum  on  account 
of  similar  deficiencies. 

The  power  of  hereditary  influence  in  determining 
an  individual's  nature  has  been  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly recognized  in  all  ages.  Solomon  proclaimed 
it  to  be  the  special  merit  of  a  good  man  that  he 
leaves  an  inheritance  to  his  children.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  has  been  declared  that  the  sins  of  the  father 
shall  be  visited  upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and 
fourth  generations.  We  know,  also,  the  story  in 
"Aristotle"  of  the  man  wdio,  when  his  son  dragged 
him  by  his  hair  to  the  door,  exclaimed :  "Enough, 
my  son!  I  did  not  drag  my  father  beyond  this." 
And  Plutarch  puts  the  doctrine  of  heredity  in  a  shape 
that  is  both  ancient  and  modern :  "That  w^hich  is 
engendered  is  made  of  the  very  substance  of  the 
generating  being,  so  that  he  bears  in  him  something 
which  is  very  justly  punished  or  recompensed  for 
him,  for  this  something  is  he." 

OVERCOMING    ADVERSE    HEREDITY 

Among  the  heroes  of  the  w^orld,  none  have  done 
better  w^ork  for  mankind  than  those  wdio  have  turned 
evil  heredity  into  good  heredity.  Happy  is  his  lot 
who  has  had  good  ancestors.  What  a  true  man 
would  wish  his  children  to  become,  that  he  will  be 
for  the  sake  of  his  children. 

"I  cannot  resist  this  evil."  So  said  a  young  man 
to  Mr.  Butterworth. 


MORAL    INSANITY  93 

"You  are  about  to  marry,"  said  he.  "Would 
you  have  your  children  slaves  to  the  passion  which 
holds  you?" 

"No,  never;"  said  he.  "I  must  overcome — I  will 
overcome !  How  could  I  ever  look  into  a  cradle  and 
feel  that  my  child  was  a  slave?" 

It  is  a  principle  of  moral  evolution  that  anyone 
can  overcome  evil,  if  he  have  a  sufficient  motive. 
This  is  true  if  he  be  a  normal  individual. 

Bolingbroke  left  his  dissipation  when  the  vision 
of  the  crown  rose  before  him.     Shakespeare  thus 
pictures  the  altered  life  of  Henry  V : 
"The  breath  no  sooner  left  his  father's  body 
But  that  his  wildness,  mortified  in  him, 
Seemed  to  die,  too.     Yea,  at  that  very  moment, 
Consideration,  like  an  angel,  came 
And  whipped  the  offending  Adam  out  of  him." 

He  who  destroys  an  evil  in  his  own  nature  gives 
a  good  influence  to  all  time.  He  who  reverses 
heredity  is  a  benefactor  of  generations.  And  he  is 
indeed  a  celestial  knight  who  changes  the  currents, 
of  evil  heredity  into  streams  of  good.  He  is  indeed 
fortunate  if  he  has  the  ability  to  do  so.  But  suppose 
he  has  not;  that  he  is  defective  morally,  and  has 
not  the  power  in  himself  and  has  not  the  power  to 
take  an  education. 

Undoubtedly  education  has  an  important  bearing 
where  they  have  the  ability  to  receive  it.  And  yet, 
in  some  cases,  education  merely  puts  a  weapon  into 
the  hands  of  the  anti-social,  such  as  are  those  in 
question.  The  only  education  that  can  avail  any- 
thing must  be  education  in  the  true  sense — an  edu- 
cation that  is  as  much  physical  and  moral  as  intel- 
lectual, an  education  that  enables  him  who  has  to 
play  a  fair  part  in  social  life. 

All  education  must  include  provision  for  the 
detection  and  special  treatment  of  abnormal  children. 
And  yet  they  are  marked  specially  by  their  marked 


94  MORAL    INSANITY 

resistance  to  educative  influences.  However,  it 
must  not  be  forgotten  that,  to  a  large  extent,  the 
child  is  moulded  before  birth.  It  must  always  make 
a  great  difference  whether  a  man  is  well  born  and 
starts  happily,  or  whether  he  is  heavily  handicapped 
at  the  very  outset  of  life. 

We  have  great  faith  in  the  efficacy  on  the  normal 
individual  of  training  mind  and  body  in  producing 
a  systematizing  of  thoughts,  feelings  and  move- 
ments, and  hence  in  the  development  of  moral 
character. 

Next  in  importance  to  the  inborn  nature  is  the 
acquired  nature,  which  a  person  owes  to  his  educa- 
tion and  training,  not  alone  to  the  education  which 
is  called  learning,  but  to  the  development  of  char- 
acter which  has  been  evoked  by  the  conditions  of 
life. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  knowledge  of  the 
reign  of  law  in  nature  does  guide  our  impulses  to 
wiser  and,  therefore,  better  action ;  that  good  action 
promotes  in  time  corresponding  moral  development 
of  character.  Training  of  the  muscle  has  a  similar 
effect,  especially  the  muscles  of  the  hands  and  fore- 
arms and  legs.  It  has  influence  upon  the  mind 
centers  which  lie  in  close  proximity  in  the  brain  to 
the  motor  centers.  Hence  the  great  popularity  of 
rowing  and  gymnastic  games  at  schools;  the  pro- 
fessors endorsing  them  for  the  reason  that  those 
wdio  stand  high  at  these  sports  generally  stand  high 
in  their  studies. 

The  favorable  influences  of  drilling  are  seen  on 
the  mind  and  morals  of  the  prisoners  at  Elmira, 
New  York.  At  the  same  time,  the  peculiarity  about 
the  morally  insane  is  that  they  are  little  susceptible 
to  moral  training.  They  may  be  susceptible  to  a 
fair  degree  of  intellectual  culture,  such  as  in  the 
study  of  mathematics,  the  languages,  philosophy, 
etc.     They  may  make  some  considerable  advance  in 


MORAL    INSAXITY  95 

these  branches,  which  is  aU  right,  for  in  some  cases 
it  affects  considerably  the  mind.  After  all  that  can 
be  said,  an  individuars  nature  will  assimulate — that 
is,  it  will  make  of  the  same  kind  with  itself  that 
which  is  akin  to  its  nature.  And  the  cases  we  have 
cited  show  what  little  effect  advice,  coaxing,  and 
even  punishment,  had  upon  those  who  were  morally 
defective. 

I  will  quote  a  case  bearing  upon  the  point.  It 
is  that  of  a  soldier,  and  is  as  follows : 

''He  had  been  a  lieutenant  in  a  volunteer  regi- 
ment, and  I,"  so  says  his  superintendent,  ''gave  him 
rather  more  privileges  on  that  account;  but  after  a 
time  I  found  that  he  was  more  nearly  an  example 
of  total  depravity  than  I  had  ever  seen.  There  was 
no  truth  in  him,  and  he  was  intelligent  enough  to 
make  his  lies  seem  plausible  to  me,  as  wxll  as  to 
others.  By  his  writing  and  talking  and  conduct  gen- 
erally he  kept  the  patients  and  their  friends  in  a 
ferment,  and  gave  me  more  trouble  than  the  whole 
hospital  besides. 

''He  had  a  small  scar  about  the  middle  of  his 
forehead,  which  he  said  was  due  to  a  slight  flesh 
wound  from  a  glancing  ball  in  battle.  While  he  was 
under  my  care,  an  older  brother  came  to  see  him, 
and  he  told  me  that  up  to  the  time  his  brother  (my 
patient  wdio  so  tried  my  patience)  entered  the  army, 
he  w^as  almost  a  model  young  man,  aimiable  and 
affectionate,  the  pet  of  the  wdiole  family  and  inti- 
mate friends.  'But,'  said  he,  'ever  since  he  came 
back,  he  has  been  possessed  of  a  devil,  if  ever  one 
was.' 

"After  a  time,  much  to  my  delight,  he  asked  for 
a  transfer  to  the  Soldiers'  Home  at  Dayton,  Ohio, 
which  I  got  for  him  with  commendable  alacrity,  and 
he  went  there.  His  conduct  at  Dayton  was  the  same 
as  with  me,  but  after  a  few  months  he  quite  sud- 
denly died,  when  an  autopsy  was  made.     In  sawing 


96  MORAL    INSANITY 

open  the  skull  at  the  point  of  the  small  scar  on  his 
forehead,  the  saw  came  directly  upon  the  butt  end 
of  a  conical  bullet,  two-thirds  of  which  projected 
through  the  skull,  piercing  the  membranes,  and  into 
the  brain.  The  internal  table  of  the  skull  had  been 
considerably  splintered  by  the  ball,  the  pieces  not 
being  entirely  separated,  and  there  was  evidence  of 
severe  chronic  inflammation  all  around,  and  quite  a 
collection  of  pus  in  the  brain  where  the  ball  projected 
into  it. 

"Here  was  the  devil  that  had  possessed  the  poor 
fellow — that  not  only  took  his  life,  but  destroyed  his 
character,  lost  him  the  love  and  esteem  of  his  friends, 
and  doomed  him  for  half  a  dozen  years  to  do  things 
he  would  most  have  hated  and  despised  when  he  was 
himself. 

"The  assistant  surgeon  found  in  this  man's  trunk 
letters  from  half  a  dozen  women  at  least,  in  various 
places,  from  which  it  appeared  that  he  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  each  one  of  them.  In  several 
instances  the  date  of  reception  and  reply  was  noted 
in  a  business-like  way." 

Westphall  well  says  of  such  persons :  "They 
often  think  correctly  and  logically,  and  show  reflec- 
tion and  deliberation  to  a  certain  degree;  but  there 
is  a  certain  something  lacking,  and  there  are  some 
general  conceptions,  general  processes  of  thought 
and  judgment,  of  which  they  are  incapable.  Their 
mentality  stops  short  on  a  certain  plane,  especially 
in  matters  of  judgment  where  every,  even  unedu- 
cated, person  easily  succeeds.  Certain  of  the  finer 
feelings  are  absolutely  impossible  of  development  in 
them.  They  often  seem  perverse,  passionate, 
although  of  true,  sustained  passion  they  are 
incapable.  Cases  of  this  kind  may  not  reach  actual 
intellectual  derangement,  the  moral  feeling  being 
the  acquisition  of  human  culture  in  the  course  of 


MORAL    INSANITY  97 

development  through  the  ages,  its  loss  is  one  of  the 
earliest  effects  of  degeneration." 

Moreover,  it  will  always  be  necessary  to  consider 
the  social  condition  of  any  one  suspected  to  have 
moral  insanity,  inasmuch  as  it  is  in  the  loss  of  social 
feeling  by  reason  of  disease  that  the  alienation  essen- 
tially consists.  If  a  person  loses  all  good  feelings, 
and  from  being  truthful,  temperate  and  considerate, 
becomes  a  shameless  liar,  shamelessly  vicious  and 
brutally  perverse,  then  it  is  impossible  not  to  see 
the  effects  of  disease. 

Such  moral  alienation  may  occur  after  previous 
attacks  of  insanity,  after  acute  fevers,  after  some 
form  of  brain  disease,  or  after  injury  of  the  head, 
as  was  the  case  with  the  example  just  cited  of  the 
wounded  soldier. 

SELFISHNESS    OF    SUCH    CASES 

As  feeling  lies  deeper  in  the  mind  than  thought, 
the  understanding  is  not  entirely  unaffected,  albeit 
there  may  be  certainly  no  positive  delusions.  The 
whole  manner  of  thinking  and  reasoning  concerning 
self  is  tainted  by  the  mOrbid  self-feeling.  The  person 
may  judge  correctly  of  the  relations  of  external 
objects  and  events,  and  may  reason  very  acutely 
with  regard  to  them;  but  no  sooner  is  self  deeply 
concerned — his  real  nature  touched  to  the  quick — 
than  he  displays  in  reasoning  the  vicious  influence 
of  his  morbid  feelings  and  an  answering  perversion 
of  judgment.  He  sees  everything  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  narrowest  selfishness,  gratifies  each 
vicious  desire  of  the  moment  without  the  least  sense 
of  shame  or  thought  or  prudence,  and  lies  most 
shamefully.  He  cannot  truly  realize  his  relations 
as  an  element  in  the  social  system.  It  is  well  to  bear 
in  mind  that  the  individual  is  a  social  element,  and 
to  take  into  account  his  social  relations. 

That  which  would  not  be  offensive  or  unnatural 


98  MORAL    IXSAXITY 

in  a  person  belonging  to  the  lowest  strata  of  society 
would  be  most  offensive  and  unnatural  in  one  hold- 
ing a  good  position  in  it.  W^ords  which,  used  in  the 
latter  case,  would  betoken  grave  mental  disorder, 
may  be  familiar  terms  of  address  amongst  the  lowest 
class.  There  would  be  nothing  strange  in  an  Irish 
laborer  going  about  the  streets  without  his  coat  or 
in  his  using  coarse  language  to  his  wife ;  but  if  a 
grave  and  reverend  bishop  were  to  walk  about  the 
town  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  to  use  to  his  wife  such 
language  as  the  laborer  uses  habitually,  there  would 
be  good  cause  to  suspect  that  his  mind  was  deranged. 

"The  extremest  example  of  moral  insanity  which 
I  ever  saw,"  says  Maudsley,  ''was  in  an  old  man, 
sixty-nine.  He  had  no  little  intellectual  power, 
could  compose  well,  write  tolerable  poetry  with  much 
fluency,  and  was  an  excellent  keeper  of  accounts. 
There  was  no  delusion  of  any  kind,  and  yet  he  was 
the  most  hopeless  and  trying  of  mortals  to  deal  with. 
Morally,  he  was  utterly  depraved;  he  would  steal 
and  hide  whatever  he  could.  He  then  pawned  what 
he  had  stolen,  and  begged  and  lied  with  such  plaus- 
ibility that  he  deceived  many.  He  could  make  excel- 
lent suggestions  and  write  out  admirable  rules  for 
the  management  of  an  asylum,  and  was  very  acute 
in  detecting  any  negligence  on  the  part  of  others; 
but  was  always  on  the  watch  himself  to  evade  the 
regulations  of  the  house.  In  short,  he  had  no  moral 
sense  wdiatever.  At  long  intervals  this  patient 
became  as  plainly  insane  as  any  patient  in  the 
asylum." 

And  yet,  in  the  face  of  cases  like  this  and  others 
I  have  related,  people  go  on  maintaining  that  the 
moral  sense  is  independent  of  physical  organization. 

We  see  the  same  moral  insanity  in  children  who 
descend  from  degenerate  or  insane  parents.  Other- 
wise we  could  not  account  for  the  extraordinary 
precocity  in  cunning  lying  and  vicious  propencities 


MORAL    INSANITY  99 

which  is  displayed  sometimes  in  very  young  chil- 
dren. They  are  destitute  of  all  feelings  of  affection 
for  father  or  mother,  brother  or  sister;  have  no 
social  sympathies,  so  that  they  mingle  not  with  other 
children  in  their  play;  delight  in  destruction  and  in 
the  infliction  of  tortures  on  such  animals  as  they  dare 
meddle  with;  lie  or  steal  with  an  ingenuity  that  is 
incredible  to  those  who  have  not  experience  of  their 
extreme  moral  perversion.  They  are  not  in  the  least 
degree  susceptible  to  moral  influence,  the  severest 
penal  discipline  and  the  most  patient  forbearance. 
The  fact  is,  they  are  destitute  of  that  potentiality  of 
moral  development  which  should  be  innate  in  the 
human  constitution  at  their  age. 

As  there  are  persons  who  cannot  distinguish  cer- 
tain colors,  having  what  is  called  color-blindness, 
and  others  who,  having  no  ear  for  music,  cannot 
distinguish  one  tune  from  another,  so  there  are  some 
few  who  are  congenitally  deprived  of  moral  sense. 
Associated  with  this  defect  there  is  frequently  more 
or  less  intellectual  deficiency,  but  not  always;  it 
sometimes  happens  there  is  a  remarkably  acute 
intellect  with  no  trace  of  moral  feeling. 

There  is  one  disease  to  which  adults  are  subject, 
viz :  Paralytic  Dementia,  in  which  the  moral  charac- 
ter deteriorates  early  in  its  history,  before  the  friends 
notice  that  there  is  much  else  the  matter,  before  his 
mind  shows  symptoms  of  failure.  It  is  generally  a 
long-lived  disease,  yet  early  in  its  history  there  is 
moral  failure.  The  banker  loses  his  property  by 
foolish  ventures,  the  saving  business  man  buys 
quantities  of  useless  articles,  the  moral  man  becomes 
licentious,  or  the  temperate  a  drunkard,  the  respected 
father  of  a  family  goes  to  the  state's  prison  for  run- 
ning off  with  a  pretty  servant  girl,  the  high- 
standing  citizen  is  in  a  police  court  for  assault  or 
stealing  money  or  jewelry.  Examined  by  a  com- 
petent physician,  these  men  are  found  to  be  struck 


100  MORAL    INSANITY 

by  a  fatal  disease.  Yet  a  prunuunced  symptom  early 
in  the  disease  was  loss  of  moral  control.  This  is  the 
form  of  insanity  we  suspect  will  follow  in  Mrs. 
Chadwick's  case. 

In  the  preparation  of  this  paper  I  was  greatly 
indebted  to  Professors  Mandsley,  Ellis  and  others. 


Kinship  of  Genius  and  Insanity 

As  we  cannot  give  a  concise  definition  of  either 
genius  or  insanity  that  would  be  intelligible  and 
embrace  all  cases,  we  are  forced  to  deal  with  both 
somewhat  at  large.  To  show  the  value  of  experi- 
ence with  the  insane,  I  will  cite  one  example : 

"A  man,"  so  says  Maudsley,  'Svho  has  been 
hitherto  temperate  in  all  his  habits,  prudent  and 
industrious  in  business,  and  exemplary  in  the  rela- 
tions of  life,  undergoes  a  great  change  of  charac- 
ter— gives  way  to  dissipation  of  all  sorts,  launches 
into  reckless  speculations  in  business,  and  becomes 
indifferent  to  his  wife  and  family  and  the  obligations 
of  his  position.  His  surprised  friends  see  only  the 
eft'ects  of  vice,  and  grieve  over  his  sad  fall  from 
virtue.  After  a  time  they  hear  that  he  is  in  a  police 
court,  accused  of  assault  or  of  stealing  money  or 
jewelery,  and  are  not  greatly  astonished  that  his 
vices  have  brought  him  to  such  a  pass. 

''Examined  by  a  competent  physician,  he  is  dis- 
covered to  have  a  slight  peculiarity  of  articulation, 
particularly  of  words  containing  Unguals  and  labials, 
such  words,  for  instance,  as  truly  rural ;  and  he  also 
has,  perhaps,  a  slight  inquality  of  the  size  of  the 
pupils,  symptoms  which,  in  conjunction  with  the 
previous  history,  enable  the  physician  to  say  with 
positive  certainty,  that  he  is  struck  with  a  disease 
which,  sapping  by  degrees  his  intellect  and  strength, 
will  destroy  finally  his  life." 

This  disease  is  what  is  known  as  general  paralysis 
of  the  insane.     It  is  generally  a  long-lived  disease, 

8-  101 


102     K/xsjur   or   uiixius  and  insanity 

and  it  is  a  niatlor  of  cunifort  to  the  physician  to  be 
able  to  explain  from  slight  and  oljscure  symptr 
the  exact  nature  of  the  case.  This  case  shows 
thcr,  that  where  an  experienced  man  would  see 
clearly  insanity,  others  would  not  suspect  such  a 
thing;  and  the  object  of  this  introduction  is  to 
emphasize  this  fact.  This  precludes  the  conception 
that  an  insane  mind  is  always  a  wild  and  incoherent 
one,  whereas  the  insanity  may  effect  the  feelings 
vnd  emotions  alone.  On  the  contrary,  it  confirms  the 
truth,  that  obscure  symptoms  alone  may  long  be 
present;  in  other  words,  that  insanity  may  be  very 
difficult  to  discover.  Witness  a  case  of  monamania, 
where  the  victim  may  be  shrewd  enough  to  conceal 
his  delusion  under  the  most  rigid  examination.  There 
is  nothing  more  difficult  than  to  detect  insanity  in 
these  cases,  unless  the  delusion  is  known. 

Genius  has  been  classed  by  not  a  few  wa'iters  on 
mental  diseases  w^ith  insanity.  This  impious  pro- 
fanation is  not,  however,  altogether  the  work  of 
doctors,  nor  is  it  the  fruit  of  modern  speculation. 
The  great  Aristotle  observed  that,  imder  the  influ- 
ence of  congestion  of  the  head,  many  persons  become 
poets,  and  are  pretty  good  poets,  wdiile  they  are 
maniacal,  but  when  cured  can  no  longer  write  verse. 
After  the  first  battle  of  the  Civil  War,  many  sol- 
dit^rs,  on  account  of  the  unusual  excitement,  became 
maniacal.  One  wdiom  I  remember,  sang  hymns 
immoderately,  and  composed  rhymes  as  he  sang, 
and  it  w^as  surprising  how^  well  he  composed. 

Democriatus  was  more  explicit,  and  would  not 
believe  that  there  could  be  a  good  poet  who  was  not 
out  of  his  mind.  Pascal,  later  on,  repeated  that 
extreme  intelligence  was  very  near  extreme  mad- 
ness, and  himself  offered  an  example  of  it.  Said 
another,  "Oh!  how  near  are  genius  and  madness." 
Many  examples  of  men  wdio  were  at  once  mad  and 
highly   intelligent  are  offered   by   various  authors. 


KINSHIP     OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      103 

No  one  has  maintained  more  openly  than  Schopen- 
■^uer,  who  was  himself  insane,  the  relationship  of 
j^-^nius  to  insanity.  "People  of  genius,"  he  wrote, 
''are  not  only  unpleasant  in  practical  life,  but  weak 
in  moral  sense,  and  wicked."  Genius  is  closer  to 
madness  than  to  ordinary  intelligence.  The  lives  of 
men  of  genius  show  how  often,  like  lunatics,  they 
are  in  a  state  of  continual  agitation. 

The  paradox  that  confounds  genius  with  nervous 
disorder,  however  cruel  and  sad  it  may  seem,  is 
found  to  be  not  devoid  of  solid  foundation. 

Congestion  of  the  brain  is  common  to  both  the 
insane  and  men  of  genius.  With  regard  to  the  mor- 
bid alterations  of  the  brains  of  the  insane,  discovered 
post-mortem,  it  is  said  they  are  found  in  the  mem- 
branes and  superficial  parts  of  that  organ  mostly,  and 
those  changes  are  the  results  of  congestion  and 
inflammation.  Thus,  there  are  thickings  and  opacity 
of  the  membranes  and  adhesions  and  signs,  such  as 
effusions  in  the  superficial  parts  of  the  brain.  Many 
cases,  especially  those  of  temporary  insanity,  are 
clearly  the  result  of  congestion  alone.  This  is  shown 
by  the  temporary  influence  of  many  substances,  such 
as  alcohol  and  opium. 

The  pathalogical  changes  referred  to  in  the 
brains  of  the  insane  are  a  result  of  the  long-contin- 
ued action  of  congestion  and  inflammation. 

A  certain  activity  of  the  cerebral  circulation  is 
necessary  to  mental  activity,  and  in  some  cases, 
injuries  of  the  head  have  led  to  genius,  by  producing 
a  more  active  determination  of  blood  to  the  brain 
than  was  normal,  for  some  of  those  to  be  cited  were 
unintelligent  before  the  injury,  such  as  was  the  case 
with  Marcus  Clark,  the  Australian  novelist,  whose 
skull  was  crushed  in  youth  by  the  kick  of  a  horse: 
under  injuries  of  the  head  come  Vico,  Gratry,  Clem- 
ent VI,  Melebranche,  and  others. 

Generally   apoplexy   leaves   a   man   only   half   a 


1U4      KIXSJJIP    Ol'     GISXWS    AND    INSANITY 

man,  because  the  clot  of  blood  in  the  brain 
interferes  with  the  circulation  in  that  organ;  later, 
however,  the  circulation  may  undergo  such  modi- 
fication as  will  be  favoral)le  to  mental  activity :  Wit- 
ness Pasteur,  who  did  his  best  work  after  an  attack 
of  that  character.  I  know  of  others  who  come  under 
this  description.  I  have  had  some  experience  along 
this  line  myself. 

In  this  paper  I  shall  quote  a  goodly  number  of 
literary  men,  almost  all  of  whom  were  authors.  The 
means  some  prominent  authors  resorted  to  for  aiding 
a  determination  of  blood  to  the  brain  may  be  inter- 
esting. Thus  Schiller  plunged  his  feet  in  ice-cold 
w^ater  to  drive  the  blood  out  of  them,  thinking  it 
would  go  to  the  brain.  Another  retired  into  a  cold 
room,  with  his  head  enveloped  in  hot  cloths,  to 
invite  the  blood  thereto.  Rosseau  meditated  with 
his  head  in  the  full  glare  of  the  sun,  while  Shelley 
lay  on  the  hearthrug  with  his  head  close  to  the  fire. 

All  these  were  instinctive  methods  of  augmenting 
the  cerebral  circulation  at  the  expense  of  the  general 
circulation.  These  men  knew  that  a  certain  amount 
of  blood  in  the  brain  \vas  favorable  to  mental  activ- 
ity. But  it  is  doubtful  wdiether  they  knew  that 
beyond  a  certain  amount,  confusion  of  ideas  and  an 
unreliable  judgment  are  the  results. 

Goethe  often  said  that  a  certain  cerebral  irrita- 
tion is  necessary  to  the  poet.  "Nothing,  in  fact,  so 
much  resembles  a  person  attacked  by  madness  as  a 
man  of  genius  w^hen  meditating  and  moulding  his 
conceptions.  He  exhibits  a  small  contracted  pulse, 
cold  skin,  a  hot,  feverish  head,  and  brilliant,  wild 
injected  e3^es."     So  says  Parise. 

The  brains  of  men  of  genius  show  post-mortem 
conditions  similar  to  those  found  in  the  insane,  such 
as  the  evidence  of  superficial  inflammation. 

The  close  relationship  of  genius  and  insanity 
is  further  shown  bv  the  influence  of  the  weather  on 


KINSHIP    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      105 

both.  Take  insanity  first:  "A  series  of  clinical 
researches  which  I  carried  on  for  six  consecutive 
years,"  so  says  Lombroso,  "has  shown  me  with  cer- 
tainty that  the  mental  condition  of  the  insane  is 
modified  in  a  constant  manner  by  barometrical  and 
thermometrical  influences.  \Mien  the  temperature 
suddenly  rose  above  a  certain  point,  the  number  of 
maniacal  attacks  increased  nearly  two-fold.  On 
days  in  which  the  barometer  showed  sudden  varia- 
tions, especially  of  elevation,  the  number  of  maniacal 
attacks  rapidly  increased." 

The  study  of  23,602  lunatics,  indicating  the 
extensive  experience  of  the  man,  Lombroso,  has 
shown  me  that  the  development  of  insanity  coincides 
with  the  increase  of  monthly  temperature  and  the 
great  barometrical  perturbations  in  September  and 
March.  The  minimum  number  of  outbreaks  of 
insanity  is  found  in  the  coldest  months.  The  records 
of  other  lunatic  asylums  coincide  with  this  state- 
ment. 

Now,  a  similar  influence  may  be  noted  in  those 
to  whom  nature,  benevolently  or  malevolently,  has 
conceded  the  power  of  intellect,  more  generously 
than  to  others — genius,  for  instance.  There  are  few 
among  these  that  do  not  confess  that  their  inspira- 
tion is  subject  to  the  influence  of  the  weather.  They 
have  to  struggle  against  the  malignant  influences 
which  impede  the  free  flight  of  thoughts.  One 
writer  foretold  storms  two  days  before  hand.  Main 
de  Biran  wrote :  'T  do  not  know  how  it  is  that  in 
bad  weather  I  feel  my  intelligence  and  will  so  unlike 
what  they  are  in  fine  weather." 

Thermometric  influence  is  clear  and  evident. 
Napoleon  suffered  from  the  faintest  wind :  loved 
heat  so  much  that  he  would  have  fires  even  in  July. 
Voltaire  and  Buffon  had  their  studios  warmed 
throughout  the  year.  One  writer  could  compose 
only  beneath  six  quilts  in  the  summer  and  nine  in 


100      KlXSniP     OF    CliXIUS    AXD    INSANirV 

the  winter.  These  examples  allow  us  to  suspect  that 
heat  aids  in  the  production  of  genius,  and,  unfor- 
tunately, in  the  stimulation  of  mania.  This  reminds 
us  of  the  fact  that  race  horses  make  the  best  time 
in  the  hottest  weather. 

The  parallelism  of  genius  and  insanity  is  shown 
further  by  the  proclivity  of  both  men  of  genius  and 
the  insane  to  melancholy.  The  tendency  to  melan- 
choly is  common  to  the  majority  of  thinkers,  and 
depends  upon  their  exalted  general  sensitiveness. 
'Tt  is  proverbial,"  said  one,  ''that  to  feel  sorrow 
more  than  other  men  constitutes  the  crown  of  thorns 
of  genius."  Aristotle  remarked  that  men  of  genius 
are  of  melancholic  temperament.  Goethe  confessed 
that  his  character  passed  from  extreme  joy  to 
extreme  melancholy,  and  that  every  increase  of 
knowledge  was  an  increase  of  sorrow. 

This  last  statement  is  contrary  to  the  usual 
experience  of  healthy-minded,  educated  man ;  with 
him  every  increase  of  knowledge  is  an  increase  of 
joy;  and  yet  Goethe  is  cited  as  an  exceptionally 
well-balanced  literary  man,  whereas  the  statement 
just  cited  shows  that  he  was  not.  His  moral  char- 
acter substantiates  this  statement. 

*T  am  not  made  for  enjoyment,"  wrote  Flow- 
bert.  Giusti  was  affected  by  hypochondria,  which 
reached  to  delirium.  "Thought,"  wrote  one,  ''has 
long  inflicted  on  me,  and  still  inflicts,  such  martyr- 
dom as  to  produce  injurious  affects,  and  it  will  kill 
me  if  I  do  not  change  my  manner  of  existence." 

I  said,  in  civilized  man  every  increase  of  knowl- 
edge is  an  increase  of  joy;  but  this  is  not  true  with 
barbarous  man.  With  him,  the  least  mental  exer- 
tion is  painful.  "Ask  any  uncivilized  person,"  so 
say  travelers,  "a  few^  cjuestions,  about  his  language, 
for  instance,  and  he  soon  shows  signs  of  weariness 
and  his  head  begins  to  ache." 

There  was  something  wrong  w^ith  all  the  men 


KINSHIP    OF    GEKiUS    AXD    IXSAXITV      107 

above  cited — some  disorder  of  the  emotions,  doubt- 
less due  to  chronic  congestion  of  the  head,  as  a 
healthy,  well-developed  brain  which  education  pro- 
duces, craves  for,  and  leads  to,  mental  activity,  and 
there  is  nothing  that  surpasses  the  secret  joy  of 
thought  and  invention. 

But  the  number  of  intellectual  giants  who  have 
shown  abnormalities  of  mind  is  so  immense  that  it 
would  require  a  small  volume  to  record  even  their 
names ;  and  the  list  of  great  men  who  have  com- 
mitted suicide  is  almost  endless. 

A  fact  worthy  of  note  in  this  connection  is  the 
insane  and  criminal  parentage  and  descent  of  genius. 
We  find  that  many  lunatics  have  parents  of  genius, 
and  many  men  of  genius  have  parents  or  sons  who 
were  epileptic,  mad  or,  above  all,  criminal.  Byron's 
mother  was  half-mad,  his  father  was  dissolute  and 
eccentric,  and  is  said  to  have  committed  suicide.  It 
has  been  said  of  Byron,  that  if  ever  there  was  a  case 
in  which  hereditary  influence  could  justify  eccen- 
tricity of  character,  it  was  his. 

Melancholy  is  present,  also,  in  a  great  many 
forms  of  insanity,  one  form  bearing  the  name  Alel- 
ancholia.  It  may  be  an  initial  stage  of  acute  mania 
or  of  paralytic  dementia,  and  may  be  persistent.  It 
may  be  present  with  delusions,  such  as  a  refusal  to 
eat,  and  disagreeable  hallucinations  of  various  kinds. 
It  was  written  for  the  benefit  of  the  courts  by  some 
one  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  that  it  should  be 
kept  in  mind  that  persons  with  acute  melancholy 
have  diminished  power  of  self-control ;  in  other 
words,  are  insane  in  a  measure. 

THE   EFFECT   OF    CONSERVATION    OR    PERSISTENCY   OF 
ENERGY 

There  is  much  in  this  doctrine,  as  applied  to  the 
brain — that  is,  where  certain  parts  of  that  organ  are 
too  constantly  exercised  by  one  kind  of  mental  activ- 


108      KIXSIIJI'     OI'     GliNIUS    AND    INSANITY 

ity,  they  become  unduly  clevelui)C(l  at  the  expense  of 
others,  which  atrophy  or  dwindle.  For  instance, 
where  a  surplus  of  energy  is  given  to  the  intellectual 
centers,  less  remains  for  the  moral  cells.  "A  fact 
established  by  Tamburini  and  myself,"  so  says  one, 
"was  that  the  best  artists  of  the  asylums  were  all 
morally  insane."  And  how  is  it  that  so  many 
philosophers  affirm  that  genius  consists  in  an  exag- 
gerated development  of  one  faculty  at  the  expense  of 
others?  It  is  certain  that  there  have  been  men  of 
genius  presenting  a  complete  equilibrium  of  the 
intellectual  faculties^  but  they  have  defects  of  affec- 
tivity  and  feeling.  Great  intellect,  as  a  whole,  is 
not  readily  united  with  a  large  emotional  nature. 

The  incompatibility  is  best  seen  by  inquiring 
whether  men  of  overtiowing  sociability  are  deep, 
original  thinkers,  or  whether  their  greatness  is  not 
limited  to  the  sphere  where  feeling  performs  a  part. 
Therefore,  in  addition  to  a  natural  inharmonious 
proportion  in  the  various  cells  of  the  brain  there 
may  be  developed  a  great  disparity  by  our  habits  of 
thinking  and  feeling,  and  hence  the  danger  of  a 
hobby  in  producing  an  unbalanced  condition.  There 
is  scarcely  a  genius  on  record  in  whom  we  could  not, 
if  well  acquainted  with  his  character,  find  evident 
flaws. 

There  is  Herbert  Spencer,  for  instance.  Judg- 
ing alone  by  his  sensible  voluminous  waitings,  not- 
withstanding his  theory  of  universal  evolution, 
which  was  the  burden  of  his  life,  and  the  theme  that 
runs  through  all  his  writings,  we  would  say  he  was 
one  of  the  most  level-headed  men  that  ever  lived; 
and  yet  he  was  noted  for  his  complete  indifference 
to  women  (a  trait  of  character  common  to  many 
other  men  of  genius),  for  it  is  said  of  Spencer  that 
he  was  never  known  to  be  in  love  with  a  woman  in 
hiis  life.  But  was  he  merely  a  man  of  talent,  or  was 
he  a  genius? 


KINSHIP    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      109 

Lowell  says  they  are  not  the  same.  He  says  that 
talent  is  that  which  is  in  a  man's  power;  genius  is 
that  in  whose  power  a  man  is.  From  the  facts  men- 
tioned above  concerning  Spencer,  from  his  origin- 
ality, his  instantaneous  and  unconscious  flashes  of 
thought,  from  his  poor  memory  for  certain  things, 
his  nervous  break-downs,  the  long  intervals  in  which 
he  dare  not  write  anything,  from  his  insomnia,  and 
other  things,  we  infer  that  he  was  afflicted  with  that 
disease  we  call  Genius,  and  that  he  was  also  out  of 
harmony  with  his  surroundings,  which  was  shown 
by  the  fact  that  at  one  time  he  could  bear  only  a  few 
minutes'  conversation,  and  this,  too,  when  he  was  up 
and  about  and  in  the  prime  of  life.  This  symptom 
grew  on  him  with  age.  In  his  old  age,  Mr.  Carnegie 
made  him  a  present  of  a  new  piano,  which  he  had 
played  upon  on  two  occasions,  but  not  more,  as  it 
completely  unstrung  him. 

Xotwithstanding  his  dogma  of  human  evolution, 
no  one  could  have  imagined  that  Darwin,  a  model 
father  and  citizen,  so  self-controlled,  and  even  so 
free  from  vanity,  w^as  a  neuropath.  Like  all  neuro- 
paths, he  could  bear  neither  heat  or  cold;  half  an 
hour  of  conversation  beyond  his  habitual  time  was 
suflicient  to  cause  sleeplessness  and  hinder  his  work 
on  the  following  day.  He  suffered  from  Spinal 
Anaemia  and  Giddiness  (which  last  is  known  to  be 
frequently  the  equivalent  of  Epilepsy)  ;  he  also  had 
curious  crotchets. 

We  do  not  say  these  men  w^ere  actually  insane; 
mtellectually  deranged.  This  would  have  been  a 
strange  occurrence  in  men  of  science.  Had  they 
been  artists,  it  would  doubtless  have  been  different. 
That  they  suffered  from  abnormal  affectivity  and 
lived  on  the  borderland  of  insanity  is  not  incredible 
to  believe,  for  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  dis- 
order of  the  emotions  leads  to  disorder  of  the  intel- 
lect. 


110      KJXSJJJJ'    Ul-     UUMUS    AND    JXSAXJTy 

Then  there  is  Edison,  our  own  genius,  whose 
hobby  is  electricity;  and  he,  too,  has  shown  strong 
symptoms  of  abnormahly.  First,  was  in  his  abrupt 
proposal  of  marriage,  that  was  without  a  preliminary 
courtship,  which  even  the  fowls  of  the  air  indulged 
in :  He  had  a  lady  telegraph  operator  in  his  employ, 
who  one  day  said  to  him:  "Mr.  Edison,  I  can 
always  tell  when  you  are  behind  me  or  near  me." 

Said  he  in  turn  :    "Miss ,  if  you  are  willing 

to  marry  me,  I  would  like  to  marry  you."  Next, 
there  is  his  restlessness,  concerning  which  he  tells 
us  himself,  in  relation  to  working  out  a  problem  in 
mathematics,  that  he  cannot  do  it  on  paper,  ''for  I 
must  be  moving  around."  Lastly,  there  is  the  fact 
that,  instead  of  taking  pleasure  in  his  inventions,  as 
most  men  do,  he  hates  them,  however  successful. 
It  is  said  he  has  not  used  a  telephone  in  ten  years; 
cannot  bear  the  sight  of  them;  and  walks  out  of 
his  way  to  avoid  the  sight  of  an  electric  light.  If 
these  things  be  true,  they  are  symptoms  of  abnormal 
afifectivity,  for  when  we  reflect  that  he  has  nearly 
1,000  patents,  it  is  evident  he  must  be  in  a  miserable 
state  of  constant  hatred.  It  is  said  that  Edison 
thinks  four  or  five  hours  of  sleep  out  of  the  twenty- 
four  is  enough  for  any  one ;  an  opinion  not  endorsed 
by  any  one  else.  If  he  acts  upon  this  theor}^,  no 
wonder  he  is  a  genius  and  has  abnormalities.  A 
certain  prominent  English  physician,  whose  name  I 
have  forgotten,  testified  on  one  occasion  in  court 
that  he  had  never  seen  a  perfectly  sane  man.  This 
is  going  a  little  too  far,  as  it  makes  all  the  human 
race  insane,  a  proposition  we  cannot  believe.  On 
the  other  hand,  those  who  see  insanity  alone  where 
the  intellect  is  affected  see  only  a  comparatively  small 
number  of  cases.  Insanity  may  be  in  the  emotions 
alone. 

Anyway,  the  examples  above  cited  will  serve  to 
show    the    necessity    of    a    good,    all-round    mental 


KINSHIP    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      111 

development  versus  a  special  one,  including  moral 
training  as  the  best  generative  and  preservative  of 
a  well-balanced  mind.  That  genius  is  an  extraordi-  / 
nary  and  abnormal  variation  from  a  healthy  average 
manhood  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  it  is  only  slightly  \ 
hereditary.  It  is  not  as  much  so  as  insanity,  show- 
ing that  it  is  a  greater  variation  from  a  normal 
standard.  Commonly  geniuses  are  sterile.  Crocker 
says  that  all  the  great  English  poets  have  no  pos- 
terity. 

Still  geniuses  do  have  off-spring,  but  they  are 
rarely  geniuses.  An  exception,  perhaps,  should  be 
made  of  musical  geniuses — witness  :  the  Bach  family. 
Nevertheless,  the  exception  wears  out  and  disappears 
in  no  great  lengtli  of  time.  Yet,  that  talent  is  trans- 
missible by  inheritance,  within  the  limits  of  the 
species,  appears  entirely  in  keeping  with  our  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature.  The  world  would  have  made 
poor  progress  in  enlightenment  and  civilization  if 
the  modifications  wrought  in  man's  brain  by  intel- 
lectual and  moral  culture  had  not  been  inheritable. 
This  indicates  a  difference  between  genius  and  intel- 
ligence, and  this  difference  makes  in  favor  of  the 
abnormality  of  genius.  Genius  is  unnatural,  for  it 
discerns  afar-off  annalogies  too  dim  for  the  normal 
eye,  and  leaps  gaps  too  wide  for  the  healthy  limb. 

Sir  Francis  Galton,  on  account  of  the  number  of 
children  of  ability  born  to  men  of  talent,  used  to 
think  that  genius,  too,  was  inheritable,  but  after- 
ward changed  his  mind,  becoming  convinced  that 
all  extraordinary  characters  tend  to  revert  to 
mediocrity,  since  there  is  a  repugnance  in  nature  to 
mediocrity,  since  there  is  a  reupgnance  in  nature  to 
extreme  variations  from  the  average  type.  \\>re 
genius  decidedly  inheritable,  the  result  would  soon 
be  the  development  of  a  higher  species  of  man,  sep- 
arating itself  widely  from  lower  species.     A  genius 


112      KlXSIIir    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY 

is  not  a  new  and  distinct  individual;  he  is  still  a 
man,  and  the  only  question  is  whether,  in  many 
cases,  his  variation  does  not  make  him  an  abnormal 
specimen.  Dryden  expressed  the  truth  when  he 
wrote  that  charming  verse  which  runs : 

"Great  wits  are  sure  to  madness  near  allied, 
And  thin  partitions  do  their  bounds  divide." 

jMoreau  was  not  far  wrong  when  he  said : 
''Genius  has  its  material  substratum  in  a  semi-morbid 
state  of  the  brain,  which  is  substantially  identical 
with  the  insane  temperament."  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain, and  that  is  great  genius  has  its  roots  in  a  nerv- 
ous organization  of  exceptional  delicacy.  *'This  pre- 
ternatural sensitiveness  of  nerve  is  shown  in  many 
cases  by  particular  sensitiveness  to  sound,  which 
m^ny  geniuses  have  shown.  The  possession  of 
genius  carries  with  it  a  special  liability  to  the  action 
of  disintegrating  forces,  which  environ  us,  and 
involves  a  state  of  delicate  equipoise  in  the  psycho- 
physical organization,"  so  says  James  Sully.  It  is 
even  said  that  the  signs  of  degeneration  are  found 
more  frequently  in  men  of  genius  than  even  in  the 
insane,  just  as  giants  pay  a  heavy  ransom  for  their 
stature,  in  sterility  and  relative  muscular  and  mental 
weakness. 

It  is  pertinent  to  our  study  to  remark  that  men 
of  genius  have,  in  a  surprising  number  of  cases, 
been  effected  by  forms  of  nervous  disease,  some  of 
w^hich  have  been  manifested  by  physical  accompani- 
ments, such  as  occur  in  states  of  insanity,  which 
allies  it  thereto.  W^e  will  study  a  little  more  closely 
a  couple  of  these  diseases. 

The  first  is  Chorea,  or  St.  Vitus'  dance.  Many 
men  of  genius,  like  the  insane,  are  subject  to  curious 
spasmodic  movements.  Leneau  and  Montsquesieu 
left  upon  the  floor  of  their  rooms  the  signs  of  the 
movements  by  which  their  feet  were  convulsively 
agitated  during  composition.      Quite  a  number  of 


or 


KINSHIP    OF    GBNIUS    AND    INSANITY      113 

other  geniuses  exhibited  the  most  remarkable  facial 
contortions.  There  was  a  constant  quiver  on 
Thomas  Campbell's  thin  lips.  Another  was  long 
subject  to  convulsive  movements  of  the  arms. 
Napoleon  suffered  from  habitual  spasm  of  the  right 
shoulder  and  of  the  lips.  Carducis'  face— that  is, 
the  celebrated  painter's — at  certain  moments  was  a 
veritable  hurricane — lightnings  darted  from  his 
eyes  and  his  muscles  trembled.  Ampere,  the  great 
electrician,  could  only  express  his  thoughts  while 
walking,  and  when  his  body  was  in  a  state  of  con- 
stant movement.  These  things  indicate  a  choreic 
disease. 

Among  the  earliest  symptoms  of  this  disease  are 
those  referable  to  brain  disorder.  The  character 
and  disposition  of  the  patient  undergo  a  marked 
change,  and  there  is  beside,  from  first  to  last,  a  very 
decided  impairment  of  mental  vigor.  The  emotions 
are  easily  excited,  and  the  temper  becomes  fretful 
and  variable,  showing  that  the  mind  is  effected  more 
or  less.  In  a  few  cases,  there  is  decided  mania,  but 
it  is  generally  of  temporary  duration;  yet,  where 
the  physical  symptoms  persist,  although  limited,  the 
question  is  whether  they  may  not  distort  the  mind. 

'T  believe,"  says  Maudsley,  "without  choreic  dis- 
order of  movements,  there  is  a  true  choreic  mania. 
It  is  an  acute  delirium  of  ideas,  which  is  the  counter- 
part of  the  usual  delirium  of  movements — a  mental 
chorea  instead  of  a  physical  one. 

The  second  condition  referred  to  is  Epilepsy,  or 
Falling  Sickness.  There  is  one  thing  about  Epi- 
lepsy in  which  almost  all  are  agreed,  however  great 
the  difference  of  physicians  as  to  its  nature;  and 
that  one  thing  is,  that  even  slight  manifestations  of 
the  disease  impair  the  mind,  especially  its  moral  pow- 
ers, producing  insanity  in  the  end  ;  hence  the  import- 
ance of  this  disease  in  the  study  of  our  subject.  The 
epileptic  disease  does  not  get  avcII  on  the  occurrence 


lU      KIXSIIIP    OF    GHXIUb     AXD    INSANITY 

of  insanity,  but  both  grow  worse  together;   hence  we 
know  that  insane  people  do  liave  epilepsy. 

We  know,  further,  that  numbers  of  men  of 
genius  have  had  such  attacks.  There  was  Julius 
Oesar,  for  instance.  Twice  upon  the  field  of  battle 
the  Epileptic  Vertigo  nearly  had  a  serious  influence 
on  Cresar's  fate.  Epileptic  convulsions  sometimes 
hindered  Molier  from  doing  any  kind  of  work  for  a 
fortnight.  Mahomet  had  visions  after  an  epileptic 
fit.  Xewton  and  Swift  were  subject  "to  Vertigo, 
which  is  related  to  Epilepsy. 

Genuine  Epilepsy,  we  know,  in  almost  all  cases, 
impairs  the  mind,  but  there  are  almost  latent  and 
irregular  forms,  which  effect  it  also.  There  may 
be  but  few  physical  signs  of  the  disease,  which  are 
all  the  more  important  on  that  account,  such  as  was 
the  case  with  Petrach,  Peter  the  Great,  Handel, 
Richileu,  Charles  V.,  Dostoieffsky,  and  others. 

It  may  require  close  observation  to  detect  the 
true  nature  of  these  cases,  and  yet  it  is  highly  import- 
ant to  do  so,  because  these  slight  and  irregular  mani- 
festations of  Epilepsy  have  a  more  injurious  effect 
upon  the  mind  than  pronounced  paroxysms  have. 

This  is  the  universal  testimony  of  medical  writ- 
ers. It  must  be  the  pathological  condition  that  gives 
rise  to  the  loss  of  consciousness  which  characterizes 
these  cases,  for  their  distinctive  feature  is  the 
momentary  loss  of  consciousness  many  times  daily, 
for  some  days  together.  It  is  the  pathological  con- 
dition which  has  the  effect  of  producing  mental 
impairment ;  it  surely  could  not  be  the  momentary* 
loss  of  consciousness  itself,  for  nowadays  the 
superiority  of  the  subconscious  state  is  frequently 
claimed,  and  greatly  exaggerated. 

Consciousness  may  interfere,  by  distraction,  with 
mental  concentration,  just  as  vision  may;  but  as  far 
as  the  superiority  of  the  sub-conscious  state  is  con- 


KINSHIP    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      115 

cerned,  we  cannot  see  it  any  more  than  the  superior- 
ity of  bhndness. 

The  mention  of  the  above  observations  may  seem 
strange  in  this  connection  to  persons  unacquainted 
with  the  way  in  which  the  region  of  Epilepsy  has 
been  extended  in  modern  times,  so  that  many  cases 
of  headache,  or  simple  loss  of  memory,  are  now 
recognized  as  forms  of  Epilepsy  in  disguise. 

If  Epilepsy  were  the  very  limited  disease  it  is 
commonly  supposed  to  be,  there  would  be  no  excuse 
for  this  long  dissertation  upon  the  subject.  But  it 
is  not;  it  is  wide-spread,  impressing  itself  upon 
other  forms  of  nervous  disease.  The  children  of  a 
parent  subject  to  attacks  of  severe  Neuralgia  of  the. 
head,  for  instance,  are  liable  to  attacks  of  Epilepsy 
or  Insanity,  showing  that  the  off-spring  of  per- 
sons who  have  suffered  from  one  nervous  disease 
frequently  inherit  a  liability  to  the  attack  of  some 
other  nervous  disease  than  that  which  has  given 
them  their  neurotic  heritage.  It  may  be  Chorea, 
Dipsomania,  Neuralgia,  Epilepsy,  or  Insanity. 

And  then,  again,  instances  occasionally  present 
themselves  in  which  the  disorder  is  transferred  sud- 
denly from  one  set  of  nerve  centers,  the  old  symp- 
toms ceasing,  and  quite  a  new  order  of  symptoms 
supervening.  Thus  a  severe  Neuralgia  disappears 
and  the  patient  is  attacked  with  some  form  of  mad- 
ness, the  morbid  conditions  of  perverted  function 
having  been  transferred  from  the  sensory  centers  to 
the  mind  centers.  When  the  madness  has  passed 
away,  the  Neuralgia  may  return. 

Again,  convulsions  cease  and  insanity  occurs, 
the  transference  being  from  the  motor  centers  to  the 
mind  centers,  showing  that  nervous  diseases  are 
interchangeable  among  themselves.  I  refer  to  this 
fact  because  it  renders  the  obscurity  of  Epilepsy  all 
the  more  obscure. 

I  lay  great  stress  upon  Epilepsy,  as  most  medical 


116      KINSHIP    OF    GliXIUS    AND    INSANITY 

men  do,  because  nothing  is  more  certain  to  impair 
the  mind,  and  where  the  symptoms  sliow  its  nature, 
we  expect  mental  impairment;  not  only  so,  but  the 
frequent  occurrence  of  'Epilepsy  in  men  of  genius 
suggests  the  hypothesis  of  the  Epileptic  nature  of 
genius  itself,  which  is  a  very  important  suggestion. 
This  is  the  especial  reason  why  I  dwell  so  long  on 
this  repulsive  disease. 

In  this  connection,  it  is  important  to  note  that 
there  are  cases  of  Epilepsy  in  which  external  convul- 
sions rarely  appear.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  Mental 
Epilepsy,  wdiere  the  attacks  effect  the  mind  alone, 
without  external  paroxysms,  or  where  the  mental 
attacks  alternate  with  convulsive  paroxysms. 

The  confession  of  men  themselves,  such  men  as 
Mahomet,  Goncourt,  Buffon,  and  others,  ought  to 
mean  much,  as  the  known  effect  of  Epilepsy  on  the 
mind  cause  almost  all,  to  conceal  the  disease,  "'^lv 
nerves  are  irritable,"  said  Napoleon,  and  he  was  not 
seldom  seen  to  shed  tears  under  strong  emotion. 
He  used  to  claim  that  a  battle  could  be  won  in  an 
instant — that  is,  by  an  instantaneous  flash  of 
thought,  which  assimilates  the  incident  to  the 
m.stantaneousness  of  an  epileptic  attack.  Taine  said 
of  him :  ''All  his  sayings  are  fire-flashes.  Never 
was  there  a  more  impatient  sensibility.  He  threw 
garments  that  did  not  fit  him  into  the  fire.  His  treat- 
ment of  his  brothers  and  w^ife  showed  his  want  of 
the  moral  sense.     He  was  morally  insane." 

Complete  absence  of  moral  sense  and  sympathy 
is  frequently  found  among  men  of  this  class. 

One  of  the  greatest  geniuses  America  has  ever 
produced  was  Edgar  Allen  Poe,  yet  he  was  a  dipso- 
maniac from  youth  throughout  life.  Dipsomania  is 
regarded  as  a  form  of  insanity,  and  from  its  period- 
icity, its  uncontrollableness  and  the  profound  change 
of  moral  character,  with  which  it  is  accompanied ; 


KINSHIP    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      117 

from  these  symptoms,  it  appears  nearly  allied  to 
tlpilepsy. 

A  fact  which  shows  a  close  alliance  of  genius  to 
Epilepsy  is  that  it  is  the  same  form  of  insanity,  viz : 
moral  insanity,  that  so  frequently  shows  itself  in 
both.  We  have  already  spoken  of  the  moral  insanity 
of  men  of  genius.  Epileptics  may  become  for  the 
time  liars,  thieves,  suspicious,  discontented  and  irri- 
table, and  on  the  slightest  pretext  yield  to  sudden 
outbreaks  of  violence. 

There  are  many  other  points  which  show  the 
analogy  of  genius  and  Epilepsy  which  I  have  not 
dwelt  upon,  such  as  the  instantaneousness  of  the 
inspiration  of  the  men  of  genius ;  its  effects  upon  the 
body,  as  prostration  with  a  weak  pulse ;  its  involun- 
tary character,  its  unconsciousness,  its  intermitency 
and  the  forgetfulness  which  attends  it,  etc.  These 
things  all  show  a  close  resemblance  and  relationship 
of  genius  to  Epilepsy. 

Speaking  of  forgetfulness  as  a  sign  of  mental 
deterioration  reminds  us  that  Lombroso,  a  man  to 
whom  I  owe  much  in  the  preparation  of  this  paper, 
suffered  from  that  misfortune  (whether  from 
genius.  Epilepsy,  or  what  not),  for  the  reason  that  a 
passage  was  no  sooner  written  than  forgotten.  We 
vvould  say,  from  his  checkered  life  and  want  of 
mental  equipoise,  that  Lombroso  was  himself  a 
genius,  and  late  developments  show  him  to  have 
been  a  decidedly  cranky  one  at  that. 

Some  may  object  to  this  paper  because  it  contains 
so  much  pathology;  whereas  man's  well-being- 
requires  that  he  not  only  know  much  of  his  healthy 
self,  but  of  the  morbid  conditions  to  which  he  is 
liable,  and  also  of  the  effects  of  the  latter  upon  his 
mind.  Hence  I  will  cite  one  other  case,  though  not 
of  an  epileptic  nature,  to  show  the  effect  of  a  bodily 
state  upon  the  intellect  in  the  way  of  rendering  it 
more   acute.      A  physician  in   charge  of  a  certain 


118      KlXSIIir    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY 

asylum  in  L^rance  related  the  history  of  a  certain 
patient  as  follows : 

"During  his  malady,  he  had  shown  a  remarkable 
talent  for  writing,  though  when  in  good  health  he 
would  have  been  quite  incapable  of  doing  as  much. 
'1  am  not  quite  cured,'  he  said  to  the  physician,  who 
thought  him  convalescent.  'I  am  still  too  clever  for 
that.  \Mien  I  am  well,  I  take  a  wxek  to  write  a 
letter.  In  my  natural  condition,  I  am  stupid.  Wait 
until  I  become  so  again  before  you  discharge  me.'  " 

In  conclusion,  I  will  say  that  it  is  in  the  nervous 
temperament — the  temperament  of  the  intellectual — 
that  nervous  disorders,  such  as  Genius,  Epilepsy  and 
Insanity,  closely  allied  conditions,  are  most  liable  to 
occur.  I  place  Epilepsy  between  the  others  as  it  is 
a  common  originator  of  both,  hence  the  frequency 
of  genius  among"  lunatics  and  of  madness  among 
men  of  genius.  '^Although  there  are  many  well- 
balanced  men  of  this  temperament,  whose  mental 
labors  only  serve  to  keep  them  in  just  poise,  it  should 
not  be  forgotten  that  the  frequency  of  Epileptic 
symptoms  in  genius  shoivs  that  genius  is  a  degen- 
erative mental  disease  of  the  Epileptic  group,"  so 
says  Lombroso,  although  it  must  be  confessed  that 
he  attached  greater  importance  to  Epilepsy  in  the 
production  of  genius  than  is  generally  admitted  by 
others.  The  symptoms  of  Epilepsy  may  be  long 
over-looked;  the  major  paroxysms  occurring  at 
night  only,  those  which  occur  in  the  daytime  being 
slight  or  irregular,  so  that  moral  perversity  may  be 
our  only  clew.  But  generally  many  of  the  symptoms 
of  genius  indicate  an  irritable  and  unstable  condi- 
tion of  the  brain,  which  borders  on,  if  it  does  not 
amount  to  disease,  for  the  greater  and  more  com- 
plex, the  energy  displayed,  the  greater  the  molecular 
activity  of  the  brain-cells,  and  the  greater  this  activ- 
ity, the  greater  the  cell  decomposition,  and  the 
greater  the  liability  to  mental  disorder. 


KINSHIP    OF    GENIUS    AND    INSANITY      119 

If  genius  means  the  faculty  of  receiving  inspira- 
tion, or  rushes  of  ideas  from  apparently  supernatural 
sources,  it  is  dangerously  nearly  to  that  aptitude  for 
hearing  voices  possessed  by  the  insane.  It  cannot,  in 
such  cases,  be  a  healthy  faculty.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  genius  means  uncommon  power  of  intellect,  v^e 
ought  to  be  suspicious  when  it  appears,  for  the  old 
saying  is,  "It  takes  brains  to  go  mad,"  because  it 
has  long  been  well  known  that  great  intellect  is  very 
rarely  associated  with  a  well-balanced,  emotional 
nature.  Good  common  sense  travels  on  the  well- 
worn  paths;  genius  never;  because  the  man  of 
genius  is  essentially  original,  a  lover  of  originality, 
and  is  the  natural  enemy  of  tradition  and  conserva- 
tism. We  ought,  therefore,  to  congratulate  our- 
selves if  we  are  not  included  in  the  class  commonly 
known  as  geniuses,  however  desirable  this  high- 
sounding  title  may  seem. 


Evolution 

The  word  evolution,  now  generally  applied  to 
worldly  processes,  meaning  all  visible  things,  taken 
in  its  popular  signification,  means  progressive 
development — that  is,  gradual  change  from  a  condi- 
tion of  relative  uniformity  to  one  of  relative  com- 
plexity. As  a  natural  process,  of  the  same  character 
as  the  development  of  a  tree  from  its  seed,  or  of  a 
fowl  from  the  egg. 

The  theory  of  evolution  has  been  opposed  by 
many,  simply  on  the  ground  that  it  leads  to  atheism 
I  do  not  think  it  necessarily  does. 

It  is  very  desirable  to  remember  that  evolution 
is  not  an  explanation  of  the  worldly  process,  but 
merely  a  generalized  statement  of  the  method  and 
results  of  that  process. 

If  the  worldly  process  was  set  going  by  any 
agent,  then  that  agent  is  the  creator  of  it,  although 
supernatural  intervension  may  remain  strictly 
excluded  from  its  further  course. 

Evolution  assumes  the  existence  of  matter.  It 
assumes  that  the  visible  universe,  all  the  heavenly 
bodies,  the  sun,  earth,  and  all  the  planets  and  stars 
existed  as  finely  divided  matter  or  mist.  This  is  the 
nebular  theory;  a  theory  advanced  by  Emmanuel 
Kant,  a  German  philosopher,  over  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago.  The  same  theory  was  advocated  by 
Laplace,  a  French  mathematician;  also  by  Sir  Wil- 
liam Herschel,  of  England,  a  practical  observer  of 
the  heavens  with  the  telescope.     Be  it  remembered 

120 


EVOLUTION  121 

that  these  men  arrived  at  the  same  result,  independ- 
ently and  ignorant  of  each  other's  efforts. 

This  theory  accounts  for  a  great  host  of  facts, 
and  stands  the  test  of  investigation.  Yet  it  presup- 
poses the  existence  of  very  important  facts.  We 
have  already  mentioned  the  existence  of  matter. 
There  are  certain  qualities  inherent  in  matter,  or 
nebular  mist,  that  it  does  not  account  for. 

For  instance,  it  assumes  that  the  particles  of 
matter  exert  an  attractive  influence  over  each  other. 
Whence  came  this  attraction  by  which  the  particles 
are  brought  together  into  a  body,  and  how  is  it  that 
they  adhere  after  they  come  together?  Whence 
came  the  unrest  we  find  in  these  nebulous  particles, 
for  they  exist  today,   as   our   observations   prove? 

Take,  for  instance,  the  great  nebula  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  constellation  of  stars  known  as  Orien, 
which  is  a  million  times  as  large  as  the  orbit  of  the 
remotest  planet  known  in  the  solar  system.  Why 
the  disquiet  of  its  particles?  Why  their  agitation, 
their  motion?  And  why  is  it,  after  they  come 
together,  they  still  move  on  an  axis,  and  also  around 
a  common  center  ?  We  must  answer  these  questions 
before  we  can  ignore  the  existence  of  a  creator. 

And  then  there  is  the  further  question,  why 
is  it  all  plants  and  animals  on  earth  exhibit  the 
tendency  to  vary?  It  is  the  tendency  of  the  condi- 
tions of  life,  at  any  given  time,  while  favoring  the 
existence  of  variations  best  adapted  to  them,  to 
oppose  that  of  the  rest,  and  thus  exercise  selection. 
Without  the  first  tendency,  there  could  be  no  evolu- 
tion; without  the  second,  there  would  be  no  selec- 
tion or  survival  of  the  fittest,  or  struggle  for  exist- 
ence. 

CREATION 

There  are  many  who  adhere  to  a  literal  transla- 
tion of  the  creation  of  the  earth  and  man,  and  all 
animals  and  plants,  as  given  in  Genesis — that  they 


122  EVOLUTION 

were  created  in  six  days.  Many  others,  including 
nearly  all  scientists  and  very  many  theologians, 
advocate  a  more  liberal  translation  of  this  account, 
claiming  that  the  rocky  pages  of  the  earth  are  a  more 
reliable  record  than  any  paper  pages  of  writings  any- 
where to  be  found;  claiming  that  the  word  begin- 
ning is  too  indefinite,  and  that  the  days  mentioned 
are  periods,  and  that  creation  was  not  completed, 
but  is  going  on  still.  That  it  is  no  disparagement  to 
the  Diety  to  say  that  he  did  confer  on  organized 
matter  the  ability  to  modify  itself  to  suit  sur- 
roundings. 

That  climate  and  food  and  the  struggle  for  life 
exert  these  modifying  influences;  that  the  struggle 
for  existence  may  call  out  and  develop  a  new  limb 
or  alter  an  old  one,  lengthen  or  shorten  an  old  one, 
or  variously  modify  the  whole  organism,  and  that 
these  modifications  may  go  on  until  practically  a 
new  creature  is  the  result.  This  class  of  philosophers 
claim  that  such  a  view  is  more  to  the  credit  of  the 
Diety  than  is  the  necessity  for  Him  to  create  a  new 
creature  whenever  altered  conditions  call  for  it. 

Taking  into  consideration  all  the  species  that 
now  exists  and  those  that  have  become  extinct,  ten 
millions  or  more  acts  of  special  creation  would  have 
been  necessary.  The  ability  to  confer  on  one  pri- 
meval form  or  a  few  forms,  life,  with  the  power  to 
undergo  modifications  to  suit  the  exigencies  of  life, 
redowns  to  his  glory.  This  is  the  view  taken  by  the 
most  advanced  scientist,  and  is  called  evolution. 

Passing  over  such  noted  pioneers  in  this  field  of 
thought  as  Darwin,  Wallace  and  Huxley,  we  come 
to  Herbert  Spencer,  whom  we  cannot  afford  to  pass 
lightly  by,  for  Herbert  Spencer  was  one  of  the  great- 
est of  them  all.  He  was  articled  in  his  seventeenth 
year  to  a  railway  engineer,  and  followed  that  profes- 
sion until  he  was  twenty-five.  During  this  period  he 
wrote  several  papers  on  various  subjects.  In  1850  he 


EVOLUTION  123 

gave  up  engineering  and  went  on  the  staff  of  the 
Economist,  and  pubhshed  a  paper  in  which  may  be 
seen  the  first  step  toward  the  general  doctrine  of 
evolution.  In  this  paper  he  showed  that  society 
developed  along  this  line. 

The  thought  of  human  interest  pervades  his 
writings  from  this  time  forth.  Social  and  ethical 
questions  are  kept  in  the  van  throughout,  as  much 
as  to  say,  'T  am  a  man,  and  nothing  human  is  for- 
eign to  me."  And  yet  he  finds  fault  with  Darwin's 
theory,  on  the  ground  that  it  deals  only  with  the 
evolution  of  plants  and  animals  from  a  common 
ancestry,  thereby  forming  a  very  small  part  of  the 
general  theory  of  the  origin  of  the  earth  and  other 
bodies.  Spencer  was  a  thoroughgoing  evolutionist, 
from  the  nebular  hypothesis  of  Kant  on  through 
organic  creatures  to  man,  believing  that  evolution 
influenced  his  conduct  and  morals  and  legislation  of 
social  aggregates. 

He  claimed  that  we  can  show  that  the  process  of 
modification  has  effected  and  is  effecting  decided 
changes  in  all  organism  subject  to  modifying  influ- 
ences; one  of  the  great  points  in  the  doctrine  on 
which  Darwin  laid  stress.  ''Evolution  can  show," 
says  he,  ''that  in  successive  generations  these  changes 
continue.  They  can  show  that  in  cultivated  plants, 
domesticated  animals,  and  in  several  races  of  men, 
such  alterations  have  taken  place.  They  can  show 
that  the  degrees  of  difference  so  introduced  are  often, 
as  in  dogs,  greater  than  those  on  which  distinctions 
of  species  are  in  other  cases  founded.  And  thus  they 
can  show  that  throughout  all  organic  nature  there 
is  at  work  a  modifying  influence,  though  slow  in  its 
action,  which  would  produce  in  millions  of  years 
any  amount  of  change." 

Let  us  take  the  evolution  of  an  animal  familiar 
to  us  all — the  horse,  for  instance,  and  particularly 
the   development  of  his   foot.      This  evolution   we 


124  liVOLUriON 

can  trace,  in  his  fossil  remains,  through  various 
ages  of  the  earth.  These  fossil  remains  were  traced 
by  Professor  jMarsh,  of  Yale  college,  on  Green  river, 
in  Wyoming.  As  found  in  the  earliest  known  line 
of  descent  of  the  horse  family,  he  had  three  toes  on 
the  hind  foot  and  four  perfect,  serviceable  toes  on 
the  fore- foot;  but  in  addition  to  the  fore- foot,  an 
imperfect  fifth,  or  splint,  and  possibly  a  correspond- 
ing rudimentary  fifth  toe,  or  thumb,  like  a  dew-claw. 
Also,  the  two  bones  of  the  leg  and  fore-arm  were 
yet  entirely  distinct.  This  animal  was  no  larger  than 
a  fox.  Next  came  an  animal  of  similar  size  and 
structure,  except  that  the  rudimentary  thumb,  or 
dew-claw,  is  dropped,  leaving  only  four  toes  on  the 
fore-foot.  Next  came  an  animal  in  which  the  fourth 
toe  has  become  a  rudimentary  and  useless  splint. 
Next  came  one  more  horse-like  than  the  preceeding. 
The  rudimentary  fourth  splint  is  now  almost  gone, 
and  the  middle  hoof  has  become  larger;  neverthe- 
less the  two  side  hoofs  are  still  serviceable.  The 
two  bones  of  the  leg  have  also  become  united,  though 
still  quite  distinct.  This  animal  was  about  the  size 
of  a  sheep.  Next  came  an  animal  still  more  horse- 
like than  the  preceeding,  both  in  structure  and  size. 
Every  rudiment  of  the  fourth  splint  is  now  gone, 
the  middle  hoof  has  become  still  larger,  and  the  two 
sidehoofs  smaller  and  shorter,  and  no  longer  serv- 
iceable, except  in  marshy  ground.  It  was  about  the 
size  of  a  small  mule.  Next  came  almost  the  com- 
plete horse.  The  hoofs  are  reduced  to  one.  Last 
comes  in  the  modern  horse.  The  hoof  has  become 
rounder,  the  splint  bones  shorter,  and  the  evolu- 
tionary change  is  complete.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that,  if  we  could  trace  the  line  of  descent  still  further 
back,  we  would  find  a  perfect  five-toed  ancestor. 

In  a  similar  way  has  been  traced  the  line  of 
descent  of  the  modern  camel  and  the  modern  deer, 
and  otlier  animals.      These  things,   when  taken  in 


EVOLUTION  125 

connection  with  increasing  size  of  the  brain,  and, 
therefore,  presumably  with  increasing  brain  power, 
shows  a  gradual  improvement  of  structure  adapted 
for  speed  and  activity,  and  increase  of  nervous  and 
muscular  energy  necessary  to  work  the  improved 
structure. 

The  history  of  the  earth  shows  that  certain  ani- 
mals have  died  out  and  are  no  longer  represented 
by  living  creatures,  but  that  new  ones  have  taken 
their  places.  Did  this  necessitate  a  new  act  of  crea- 
tion of  the  Diety?  This  idea  was  repulsive  to  the 
pioneers  of  evolution,  who  claim  that  old  forms 
have  been  so  acted  on  by  changed  conditions  of  cli- 
mate, the  necessities  of  life,  such  as  change  of  food 
and  surroundings,  as  to  so  modify  them  that  in 
course  of  time  they  become  new  creatures. 

Evolutionists  claim  that  life  commenced  in  a 
low  form,  such  as  a  mass  of  jelly,  and  that  it  con- 
tinued, under  modification-s  and  the  new  forms, 
become  permanent  without  the  intervention  of  a 
supernatural  being.  Now,  if  we  once  admit  the 
modification  of  physical  structure  and  the  perma- 
nency of  the  modifications,  and  the  transmission  of 
them  by  inheritance,  we  admit  what  evolutionists 
claim,  and  open  the  door  to  the  peopling  of  the 
earth  with  myriads  of  creatures  of  vastly  different 
forms  and  modes  of  life. 

How  about  the  evolution  of  mind?  There  are 
manifestations  of  mind  in  the  lower  animals,  still 
more  so  in  the  lowest  savages,  becoming  more  and 
more  evolved  as  civilization  increases.  Mind  in- 
creases as  life  becomes  more  complex,  showing  that 
the  adjustment  of  life  to  suit  its  surroundings  calls 
forth  mental  effort  and  increase  of  mental  activity; 
and  we  know  that  the  evolved  state  of  the  mind  is 
transmitted  by  inheritance  from  the  fact  that  the 
children  of  the  cultured  are  far  in  advance  in  the 
way  of  intelligence  of  those  of  the  barbarous.     And 


126  uroLurioN 

we  know,  further,  that  there  is  great  difference 
between  the  mind  of  one  who  can  scarcely  count 
beyond  his  lingers  and  the  mind  of  the  astronomer 
who  can  correctly  calculate  an  eclipse  of  the  sun 
10,000  years  hence,  showing  at  least  the  effect  of 
individual  evolution. 

THE    MORAL    FACULTIES 

Many  of  the  most  advanced  thinkers  claim  that 
our  moral  powers  are  entirely  evolved,  including  in 
that  word  the  inheritance  of  powers  that  were 
evolved  by  ancestors.  We  see  the  rudiments  of  a 
conscience  in  the  lower  animals,  such  as  manifesta- 
tions of  shame  or  guilt.  We  do  not  see  that  it 
makes  any  difference  whether  or  not  we  receive  the 
rudiments  of  a  conscience  directly  from  the  Diety 
or  the  ability  to  acquire  them  by  experience,  so  long 
as  w^e  acquire  them.  We  know  there  is  great  differ- 
ence between  the  conscience  of  the  savage  and  the 
civilized  man,  w'hich  shows  that  it  does  undergo 
great  individual  evolution,  but  no  amount  of  argu- 
ment would  convince  such  men  as  Huxley,  Herbert 
Spencer  and  Maudsley  that  ethics  did  not  take  origin 
entirely  in  evolution.  Suppose  they  did;  that  does 
not  disprove  the  existence  of  Diety,  for  if  the  soil 
were  not  favorable — that  is,  God-like, — the  moral 
faculties  would  not  evolve. 


The  Value  of  Moral  Charader 

If  it  could  be  proven  that  this  Hfe  is  all  there  is, 
and  that  there  is  no  hereafter,  in  which  goodness 
could  be  rewarded  or  badness  punished,  this  would 
not  take  away  the  value  of  virtue  or  the  evil  of  vice. 
We  are  treading  upon  delicate  ground  when  we  talk 
of  such  things  apart  from  a  hereafter.  But  apart 
from  a  hereafter  no  selfishness  would  enter  into  our 
motives.  We  would  not  be  good  because  we 
expected  to  be  rewarded  for  our  goodness,  but 
because  it  is  right  that  we  should  be,  because  it  is 
our  duty  to  be  so,  without  any  reference  to  reward. 
It  is  a  question  whether  the  hope  of  reward  does  not 
detract  from  the  pureness  of  our  motives. 

Again,  if  it  could  be  proven  that  there  is  no  God 
to  reward  or  punish  us,  that  would  not  relieve  us 
from  the  duty  of  being  good.  We  ought  to  be  good 
because  it  is  right  that  we  should,  without  reference 
to  the  will  of  a  supreme  being,  and  without  reference 
to  the  fact  that,  if  we  are  not,  we  are  liable  to  be 
punished.  Yet  the  nature  of  things  is  such  that  good- 
ness is  to  our  advantage.  Whether  we  have  a  sep- 
arate faculty  called  conscience,  or  whether  a  sense 
of  right  and  wrong  be  a  growth  in  the  human  mind, 
still  in  civilized  human  races  it  is  there,  and  the  feel- 
ing that  arises  when  we  see  an  act  of  cruelty  prac- 
ticed upon  a  weakly  and  helpless  creature  is  very 
different  from  that  which  arises  when  we  see  an 
act  of  kindness  practiced  upon  the  same  creature. 

Anyway,  you  will  have  to  do  something  more 
than  get  rid  of  a  belief  in  a  future  state,  and  some- 

127 


128  I'ALUE    OF    MORAL    CHARACTER 

thing  more  than  get  rid  of  a  behef  in  a  God,  in  order 
to  get  rid  of  the  obhgation  to  be  good.  The  obHga- 
tion  to  be  good  seems  to  rise  up  out  of  the  nature 
of  things,  regardless  of  what  we  beheve.  This  is  for- 
tunate, since  there  are  thousands  of  behefs  and 
unbehefs  in  the  world,  and  none  of  them  relieve  us 
from  the  obligation  to  practice  virtue,  or  from  the 
punishment  our  moral  nature  inflicts  upon  the  prac- 
tice of  vice. 

What  lends  importance  to  the  sense  of  wrong- 
doing is  the  power  of  memory.  It  is  not  only  the 
punishment  that  wrong-doing  inflicts  at  present,  but 
it  is  the  continual  remembrance  of  it  as  long  as  the 
mind  lasts,  and  not  only  so,  but  the  sense  of  wrong- 
doing may  accumulate,  that  is,  it  may  intensify  by 
reflection  or  brooding  over  it.  If  the  wrong  is  very 
great,  like  Banko's  ghost,  it  will  not  down. 

Whatever  makes  a  deep  impression  upon  the 
mind  is  much  more  likely  to  be  long  retained.  And 
some  have  thought  that  remorse  is  the  worm  that 
dieth  not. 

One  of  the  advantages  of  a  moral  life  is  that, 
as  you  grow  older,  you  will  live  more  and  more  in 
the  past.  If  the  life  has  been  an  upright  one,  the 
reminiscences  will  bring  up  pleasure ;  if  vicious,  they 
will  bring  unhappiness.  What  rest  can  a  murderer 
have  from  his  ill  deed?  The  man  who  has  wasted 
his  powers  in  intemperance  can  have  but  little  com- 
fort in  casting  over  his  misspent  energies.  Whereas 
the  well-intentioned  one  may  reflect  w^ith  pleasure 
upon  a  life  devoted  to  good  purposes  . 

Another  advantage  of  a  good  life  arrives  from 
the  power  of  habit.  The  performance  of  an  act, 
whether  good  or  bad,  is  easier  a  second  time  than 
the  first,  and  continues  to  become  easier  with  each 
repetition  until  no  effort  attends  it.  If  bad,  the 
power  of  resistence  becomes  w^eakened  with  each 
repetition  until  they  amount  to  nothing.  A  second 


VALUB    OF    MORAL    CHARACTER  129 

nature  is  acquired,  so  that  at  first  what  required 
effort  now  requires  none.  It  becomes  automatic  and 
unconscious.  The  advantage  of  a  good  moral  char- 
acter is  that  w^e  act  in  harmony  with  it  when  we  are 
not  aware  of  it.  This  is  the  advantage  of  voluntary 
directing  our  thoughts  and  actions  in  the  ways  of 
right  living  when  we  are  young.  For  our  minds, 
and  even  our  bodies,  in  their  minute  nutrition, 
become  moulded  in  such  habits  so  that  it  is  easier 
to  do  right  than  wrong;  to  do  wrong  becomes  a 
wrench  or  violence  to  our  natures.  A  good  man 
may  do  wrong,  but  generally,  if  it  is  a  great  wrong, 
it  is  because  his  mind,  by  long  operation  of  adverse 
events,  has  become  unhinged  and  unsound. 

Another  advantage  of  well-doing,  it  gives  us 
standing  in  the  community  in  which  we  live.  We 
all  need  the  confidence  of  our  associates,  and  there 
may  be  times  when  we  may  need  it  sorely,  and  then 
again  there  are  many  little  ofiices  of  kindness  which 
cost  the  giver  little  or  nothing  which  will  be  of 
benefit  to  us.  Charity  associations  and  mutual 
benefit  societies  are  based  upon  this  principle  and 
require  an  applicant  to  prove  good  moral  character. 
Even  life  insurance  associations  attach  great  import- 
ance to  the  same  thing,  even  as  a  financial  precau- 
tion. Large  employers  are  beginning  to  look  largely 
into  the  moral  habits  of  laborers,  rejecting  esp'^cially 
the  intemperate. 

There  is  a  beauty  about  a  well-proportioned  char- 
acter, a  good,  all-around  man.  He  may  not  be  bril- 
liant in  any  one  respect,  but  there  is  a  harmony 
about  him  that  is  pleasing.  You  never  see  him  make 
a  bad  break  in  any  particular.  All  the  affections  of 
his  mind  are  under  apparently  good  control. 
Patience  is  well  developed,  so  that  if  things  are 
against  him  for  a  time,  he  has  faith  that  a  turn  in 
his  affairs  will  occur,  and  that  things  will  come  out 
all  right. 


130  I'ALUU    Of    MORAL    CHARACTER 

On  the  other  hand,  "vice  is  a  monster  of  so 
frightful  mien  to  he  hated  needs  hut  to  1^  seen." 

As  it  eats  away  the  supports  of  character,  and 
therehy  weakens  it,  it  is  an  ol^ject  of  repulsion  to  a 
virtuous  man.  Slowly,  hut  surely,  it  undermines 
the  power  of  self-control,  until  he  that  would  do 
good  finds  that  evil  is  present  with  him. 


Formation  and  Effeds  of  Charader 

As  personal  character  is  the  only  thing  in  this 
world  that  amounts  to  anything,  it  is  well  worth 
while  to  give  it  a  little  study.  I  shall  confine  the 
word  character  to  imply  alone  the  effects  of  our 
experiences  upon  ourselves.  In  doing  this,  I  shall 
first  call  your  attention  to  the  effects  of  mental  action 
upon  the  body.  This  we  may  do  in  the  study  of 
memory.  It  is  a  question  whether  an  impression  or 
modification  once  wrought,  deeply,  in  the  brain  ever 
entirely  fades  away.  It  may  be  forgotten  for  a  long 
time,  but  is  it  beyond  the  power  of  recall  ? 

A  very  interesting  case  is  recorded  of  an  old 
ignorant  servant  woman  who,  in  an  attack  of  fever, 
repeated  verses  in  the  dead  languages.  Her  young 
physician  determined  to  ferit  out  the  matter.  He 
found  that  when  she  was  young  she  had  been  a 
servant  in  the  family  of  a  clergyman,  who  was  in 
the  habit  of  walking  his  hall  repeating  aloud  or  read- 
ing verses  in  Latin,  Greek  and  Hebrew.  These 
verses  became  impressed  on  her  mind  and  lay  dor- 
mant for  a  long  time.  But  when  she  became  sick, 
the  peculiar  state  of  the  blood,  incident  to  the  fever, 
revived  them.  After  recovery  she  was  again  ignor- 
ant of  them.  In  this  case,  doubtless,  what  we  may 
call  association  memory  played  the  important  part; 
that  is,  one  word  brought  on  the  next,  by  reason  of 
the  fact  that  they  had  been  thus  associated  in  her 
mind.  These  threads  of  association  is  the  part  that 
the  mind  itself  engenders,  and  we  may  look  upon 
them  as  a  material  change  in  the  brain  itself. 

131 


132         CHARACTISR:    PORMA  TION— EFFECTS 

But  these  are  only  threads  of  association  that 
the  mind  forms  which  we  have  spoken  of ;  but  there 
must  be  things  that  are  thus  associated.  These  are 
the  separate  original  impressions  or  modifications. 
These,  too,  we  claim,  exert  a  material  effect  upon  the 
brain.  There  is  one  peculiarity  about  them,  and  that 
is  they  require  time  to  exert  their  full  influence,  so 
that  they  will  be  well  remembered.  If  our  thoughts 
are  interrupted  by  a  startling  occurrence,  as  we  know 
by  experience,  wx  are  likely  to  forget  what  we  are 
thinking  about.  Or  in  cases  of  head  injury,  it  is  a 
matter  of  record  that  the  memory  not  only  fails  for 
subsequent  events,  but  that  for  preceeding  ones,  for 
a  day  or  so,  have  been  forgotten.  Which  seems  to 
show^  that  impressions  had  not  had  time  to  work 
their  full  material  effects  upon  the  brain — the  ink, 
as  it  were,  is  wiped  off  before  the  page  has  had  time 
to  dry. 

In  what  this  material  change  consists,  we  do  not 
know;  whether  it  is  some  rearrangement  of  the 
particles  of  the  brain  matter,  or  some  alteration  of 
their  affinities,  we  can  only  conjecture.  We  have 
reason  to  believe  that  it  is  a  change  induced  through 
nutrition ;  induced  by  the  impression  or  idea  itself. 
Wlierever  there  is  action,  there  is  flux  of  blood,  and 
w'herever  there  is  repeated  flux  of  blood,  there  is 
altered  nutrition.  Nutrition  may  be  depended  upon 
to  faithfully  reproduce  any  changes  that  have  been 
effected.  Of  this  we  have  an  example  in  the  repro- 
duction of  a  scar  in  the  skin,  which  is  faithfully  per- 
petuated through  life,  although  the  particles  of  the 
body  are  repeatedly  changed. 

The  changes  or  modifications  of  the  brain  sub- 
stance are  too  small  to  be  detected  by  the  microscope, 
and  yet  they  may  notably  effect  the  character  and 
make  themselves  manifest  in  the  countenance. 

There  are  those  who  believe  that  the  thoughts 
and  actions  become  so  impressed  upon  the  counte- 


CHARACTER:    FORMATION— EFFECTS        133 

nance  and  bearing  of  the  individual  that  they  can 
divine  one's  employment  by  them.  It  is  related  of 
a  certain  man  that  on  one  occasion  he  went  into  a 
room  where  there  were  a  few  men  and  made  the 
remark  that  he  could  tell  a  man's  employment  by  his 
outward  appearance;  whereupon  a  certain  one  of 
them  challenged  him  to  make  good  his  statement  as 
far  as  he  was  concerned.  He  looked  him  over  and 
said :  "You  are  either  a  Methodist  preacher  or  a 
horse-trader."     It  turned  out  that  he  was  both. 

The  expression  of  the  face  is  due  largely  to  one's 
life  and  thought.  A  life  of  intellectual  labor  makes 
itself  manifest  in  the  wrinkles  and  otherwise  in  the 
features;  and  a  life  of  mental  indolence  leaves  the 
face  a  blank.  It  is  evident  that  goodness  shines 
through  amiable  features,  and  that  bulliness  produces 
a  brutal  physiognomy,  and  that  honesty  is  evinced 
by  an  open  countenance,  and  meanness  by  a  con- 
tracted one. 

Even  one's  nationality  may  be  recognized  in  the 
countenance,  which  means  that  the  scenery  and  other 
environments  of  youth,  and  other  national  char- 
acteristics, may  impress  themselves  upon  and  lie 
reflected  in  the  features. 

If  any  of  the  above  statements  are  true,  even  in 
a  slight  degree,  it  makes  good  our  position,  that  our 
minds  do  modify  our  bodies.  These  things  being 
true,  it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  how  character 
may  be  transmitted  by  inheritance;  whereas,  if  the 
mind  alone  is  affected,  it  is  not  so  easy  to  see. 

The  material  changes  of  w^hich  we  have  spoken, 
and  which  we  have  invoked  to  explain  the  retentive 
power  of  memory,  and  which  w^e  will  use  to  explain 
other  things,  should  cut  no  figure  in  our  religious 
beliefs.  For  while  it  shows  a  more  intimate  rela- 
tion of  mind  and  body  in  this  life  than  is  generally 
recognized,  it  signifies  nothing  as  to  what  may  be 
their  relation  in  another  life. 

10- 


134         CHARACTER:    FORMATION— EFFECTS 

Tliere  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  nervous  system, 
which  aids  in  the  formation  of  character  or  in  the 
production  of  the  force  of  habit,  which  is  much  the 
same,  and  that  is,  when  an  impression  enters  a  nerve 
center  and  departs  as  an  impulse  or  idea,  it  leaves 
behind  an  effect  which  has  a  tendency  and  facility 
to  repeat  the  process;  that  is,  to  react  again  in  the 
same  way.  On  this  account  a  similar  impression  is 
more  likely  to  take  the  same  course  in  the  brain  than 
any  other,  or  than  it  is  to  open  up  a  new  path.  It  is 
a  path  of  least  resistance.  In  course  of  time  the 
brain  becomes  filled  with  these  paths  or  lines  of  least 
resistance.  It  is  not  improper  to  speak  of  the  adult 
brain  as  made  of  these  paths.  The  main  point  in  the 
matter  is  that  it  is  easier  for  an  impression,  or  sensa- 
tion, or  wave  of  nervous  influence,  to  travel  a  second 
time  along  one  hi  these  lines  than  at  first,  and 
becomes  easier  with  each  repetition ;  and  herein  lies 
the  power  of  habit.  These  lines  are  kept  in  existence 
by  some  kind  of  nutritive  change  in  their  course  by 
the  influence  of  the  nervous  wave  itself. 

Illustrative  of  the  effect  of  habit,  it  is  related  of 
an  old  soldier,  that  one  who  knew  the  fact,  on  one 
occasion  sharply  exclaimed,  "Attention!"  when  the 
soldier  suddenly  dropped  his  hands  to  his  sides, 
letting  his  dinner — his  bread  and  potatoes — fall  in 
the  dirt.  The  fact  is,  the  theory  of  drilling  soldiers, 
or  training  in  any  particular,  is  based  on  the  known 
force  of  habit.  One  point  not  to  be  lost  sight  of 
is  that  the  basis  of  this  power  is  not  in  the  mind  only, 
but  in  the  brain  itself,  and  in  the  nerves  and  muscles 
of  the  body.  The  fingers  of  the  musician,  as  well 
as  his  mind,  become  altered  by  the  everlasting  train- 
ing he  has  to  go  through. 

If  in  practical  life  the  youth  sets  forth  with  vir- 
tuous considerations,  the  way  becomes  easier  and 
easier  all  through.  If  under  vicious  considerations, 
it  is  just  the  reverse.     If  temptations  are  yielded  to. 


CHARACTER:    FORMATION— EFFBCTS         135 

the  power  of  resistance  becomes  weakened  and  grows 
less  and  less  with  each  yielding;  whereas,  if  they  are 
resisted,  the  power  of  resistance  becomes  greater 
and  greater. 

It  is  said  that  a  Greek  sage,  when  asked  why  he 
had  punished  his  son  so  severely  for  so  trivial  an 
offense,  replied :  "And  do  you  regard  habit  as 
trivial?"  The  important  thing  in  a  single  act  is 
that  it  tends  to  form  a  habit,  from  which  similar 
acts  afterwards  result.  The  trivial  act  of  the  boy 
would  have  damaged  the  boy  himself.  Having 
stolen  once,  he  would  have  become  an  habitual  thief. 
The  first  trivial  transgression  was  the  first  step  in 
that  direction.  No  one  ever  told  his  first  lie  intend- 
ing to  become  a  liar,  no  drunkard  ever  began  as  a 
drunkard. 

It  is  a  comfort  to  see  a  man  who  has  so  long 
practiced  the  ways  of  right  living  that  he  has  become 
confirmed  therein  by  the  power  of  habit,  so  that  there 
is  but  little  danger  of  his  relapsing  from  such  a  state, 
because  his  body,  as  well  as  his  soul,  has  been  modi- 
fied by  such  habits. 

Granting  that  it  is  true,  that  material  changes 
are  wrought  in  our  bodies,  what  effect  would  they 
have  upon  our  characters?  It  would  seem,  if  the 
body  is  modified  by  our  experiences,  that  our  brains 
and  whole  body  grows  to  our  habits  of  thought,  feel- 
ing and  action,  that  our  bodies  would  be  a  part  of 
our  characters,  and  that  it  would  give  stability  to 
them.  It  may  be  a  novel  thought  that  our  bodies 
are  a  part  of  our  characters,  but  such  seems  to  be  the 
inevitable  conclusion. 

Our  characters  are  made  up  of  our  life  experi- 
ences, and  are  not  the  work  of  a  day,  and  cannot  be 
changed  in  a  day.  The  good  man  does  well  largely 
because  he  has  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  well,  and 
the  bad  man  acts  badly  because  it  is  in  accordance 
with  his  second  nature.     For  him  to  do  differently, 


130        CHARACTER:    FORMATION— EFFECTS 

and  continue  to  do  so,  a  great  deal  has  to  be  undone, 
and  a  different  order  of  things  has  to  be  built  up. 
His  body  has  to  undergo  a  change.  "Can  the 
Etheopian  change  his  skin,  or  the  Leopard  his  spots? 
Then  may  ye  also  do  good  that  are  accustomed  to 
do  evil?"  The  only  trouble  with  this  passage  is  it 
does  not  go  deep  enough.  The  color  of  the  skin 
and  of  the  spots  on  it  are  only  skin  deep,  whereas 
the  habits  of  man  are  so  interwoven  into  his  being 
that  they  are  largely  the  man  himself. 

It  is  sad  to  encounter  those  who  are  morally 
defective.  There  are  moral  imbeciles — persons  lack- 
ing in  the  moral  sense.  They  are  generally  such  by 
inheritance,  although  great  moral  perversity  may  be 
developed  by  bad  practices. 

I  will  cite  an  example  of  moral  perversity :  A 
gentleman  of  France  has  been  passing  the  summer 
at  his  country  house  with  his  daughter,  aged  twenty- 
two,  and  his  son,  aged  twenty.  From  the  moment 
of  his  arrival  devastations  occurred  everywhere  on 
his  property.  The  shrubs  were  cut,  garden  plants 
and  large  branches  of  the  birch  trees  removed,  the 
doors  and  walls  of  the  house  were  soiled.  The 
grounds  and  dwellings  of  other  persons  in  the  neigh- 
borhood were  similarly  treated.  Windows  were 
broken,  the  walls  and  doors  of  the  church,  the 
priest's  house,  and  even  the  altar,  were  soiled. 
Obscene  letters  containing  threats  of  death  were 
received  by  the  priest  and  others.  Terror  overspread 
the  parish,  and  no  one  dare  go  out  by  night.  At 
last  the  son  and  daughter  were  discovered  in  their 
acts.  The  boy  confessed  his  part.  The  girl  denied 
everything,  going  so  far  as  to  send  insulting  letters 
to  the  magistrate. 

One  benefit  of  these  material  changes  is  that  they 
render  actions  and  thoughts  which  were  difficult  at 
first  so  easy  that  their  performance  is  not  even 
attended  with  knowledge  upon  our  part.  Take  walk- 


CHARACTER:    FORMATION— EFFECTS         137 

ing,  for  instance.  It  is  with  greatest  difficulty  that 
a  child  learns  to  balance  itself  and  proceed  by  steps. 
After  it  is  learned,  we  walk  without  noticing  what 
we  are  doing;  our  attention  is  rarely  called  to  the 
fact  that  we  are  walking.  The  same  is  true  of  other 
acts.  It  is  related  of  a  musician  who  frequently  had 
attacks  of  Epilepsy,  which  were  not  attended  by  fall- 
ing, but  were  attended  by  loss  of  consciousness,  that 
he,  nevertheless,  w^ould  play  on  in  the  orchestra  with 
perfect  correctness,  although  unconscious. 

Among  adults  you  will  find  one,  although  speak- 
ing the  truth  would  answer  every  purpose,  neverthe- 
less lies  because  he  is  so  in  the  habit  of  lying  that 
it  is  more  natural  than  to  speak  the  truth.  Such  per- 
verted characters  are  to  be  pitied.  The  same  is  true 
of  dishonesty — it  may  become  more  in  keeping  with 
one's  nature  than  honesty. 

Take  again  the  injury  to  character  by  gossip, 
which  may  commence  in  a  small  way,  but  grows  into 
outrageous  proportions  without  thought  or  con- 
sciousness of  the  enormity  of  the  injury  inflicted. 

This  process  of  unconscious  action  extends  to 
purely  intellectual  operations.  We  endeavor  to 
remember  a  name  and  fail,  wx  make  special  efforts 
but  still  fail ;  we  dismiss,  as  we  suppose,  the  matter 
from  our  minds ;  but  it  seems  that  the  brain  works 
away  at  it  until,  suddenly,  it  appears  all  right. 

When  a  boy,  I  remember  I  had  a  problem  in 
mathematics  I  could  not  solve.  I  worked  at  it  a 
couple  of  days  and  gave  it  up.  In  a  day  or  so.  It 
appeared  to  my  mind  divested  of  all  difficulties. 

This  shows  that  our  knowledge  of  the  process 
of  thinking  is  not  necessary  to  render  it  efficient; 
that  our  thinking  may  be  just  as  logical  when  we 
are  not  paying  attention  to  it.  The  mind  is  ever 
active,  except  wdien  we  are  asleep,  and  its  activity 
is  very  little  under  the  direct  .control  of  our  wills. 
It  goes  from  one  subject  to  another  in  accordance 


138         CHARACTER:    FORMATION— liFFECTS 

with  certain  laws  of  the  association  of  ideas,  with 
regard  to  which  we  may  be  ignorant.  A  great  part 
of  our  time  is  spent  in  this  sort  of  thinking.  Now 
and  then  we  are  aroused  to  consciousness  and  attend 
for  a  moment  to  what  we  are  thinking  about,  but 
soon  lapse  again  into  our  unconscious  way  of  drift- 
ing. Thus  day  after  day  passes,  with  only  occa- 
sional periods  of  consciousness  of  the  process  we 
are  going  through. 

The  benefit  of  our  having  established  characters 
is  that  our  unconscious  thinking  will  be  in  keeping 
with  those  characters,  and  that  there  is  no  danger 
of  our  going  astray  in  those  moods. 

Whether  any  one  believes  the  contents  of  this 
paper  or  not  is  a  matter  of  no  great  consequence, 
as  the  main  point  in  it  is  that  our  characters  modify 
the  body.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  a  matter  of  com- 
fort to  those  who  do  believe,  for  it  helps  to  explain 
the  value  of  a  good  character. 


Charader,  and  Happiness  as  a  Result 

As  character  is  one  of  the  few  things  here  on 
earth  worth  hving  for,  it  behooves  us  to  study  it 
most  carefully.  We  will  first  take  up  the  cause  of 
character.  ''It  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  almost 
everybody  has  a  character,"  so  says  one,  ''be  the 
same  more  or  less  good,  bad  or  indifferent,  as  the 
case  may  be.  The  exception,  in  fact,  need  only  be 
made  in  favor  of  imbecile  persons  and  idiots,  who 
usually  possess  no  character  at  all  to  speak  of,  or 
whose  character  is  at  least  of  a  decidedly  negative 
and  uninteresting  kind.  And,  furthermore,  roughly 
speaking,  no  two  characters  are  ever  absolutely 
identical.  The  range  of  peculiarity  is  practically 
infinite.  To  be  sure,  there  are  some  large  classes 
of  mankind  so  utterly  commonplace  and  similar  that 
from  casual  acquaintance  it  is  hard  to  distinguish 
the  individuality  of  one  of  them  from  that  of  the 
other." 

Yet  no  tw^o  human  beings  on  this  earth,  not 
even  twins,  are  so  utterly  and  absolutely  alike  that 
those  who  have  known  them  familiarly  for  years 
fail  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  The  prob- 
lem of  this  difference  or  peculiarity  has  for  each  of 
us  a  personal  interest,  and  importance  as  well,  for 
each  of  us  wishes  naturally  to  know  how  and  why 
he  happened  to  come  by  his  own  charming  and 
admirable  character.  Let  us  see  how  far  we  can 
gain  any  light  from  the  doctrine  of  heredity  on  this 
curious  question  of  the  origin  of  character. 

If  persons  of  different  color  marry,  their  chil- 


140  CllARACTLik    AXD    HAPPINUSS 

dren  will  be  of  color  between  the  two — a  sort  of 
compromise.  If  the  father  be  white  and  the  mother 
black,  the  children  will  be  mulattoes.  Here,  then, 
we  have  a  clear  physical  and  almost  mathematically 
demonstrable  case,  showing  that,  so  far  as  bodily 
peculiarities,  at  least,  are  concerned,  the  child  is,  on 
the  average,  just  equally  compounded  of  traits 
derived  from  both  parents.  This  simple  fact,  I 
venture  to  think,  gives  us  at  once  the  real  key  to 
the  wdiole  complex  problem  of  peculiarity  of  char- 
acter. Every  child,  on  the  average,  represents  one- 
half  its  father  and  one-half  its  mother.  Here  it 
takes  after  its  grandfather,  the  earl,  and  there  it 
resembles  its  grandmother,  the  washer-woman. 

''How  does  it  happen,  then,"  suggests  one,  "that 
two  brothers  or  two  sisters,  born  of  the  same  par- 
ents— twins  it  may  even  be — are  often  more  unlike 
each  other  in  character  and  mental  cjualities  than 
any  tw-o  ordinary  strangers?"  Well,  the  answer 
simply  is :  It  doesn't  happen.  "Make  sure  of  your 
facts  before  you  begin  to  philosophize  upon  them. 
Children  of  the  same  parents  are  always  very  much 
like  one  another  in  all  essential  fundamentals.  They 
may  differ  a  good  deal  among  themselves,  but  their 
differences  are  really  and  truly  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  the  vast  complexity  of  their  resem- 
blances." 

Mr.  Galton  has  collected  an  immense  mass  of 
evidence  tending  to  show  that,  just  as  twins  usually 
resemble  one  another,  almost  indistinguishably,  in 
face  and  feature,  so  do  they  resemble  one  another 
almost  as  narrowly  in  character  and  intellect.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  peculiarity,  and  the  reason  for  its 
existence  is  a  very  simple  one.  Each  separate 
human  being,  it  is  true,  is,  on  the  average,  an  equal 
compound  of  his  father  and  his  mother,  his  grand- 
fathers and  grandmothers ;  but  not  necessarily,  or 
even   probably,   the   same   compound.      Father   and 


CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS  141 

mother  have  each  in  their  Hneal  myriads  of  traits, 
both  mental  and  physical,  any  one  of  which  may 
equally  happen  to  be  handed  down  to  any  of  their 
children.  And  the  traits  handed  down  from  each 
may  not  happen  to  be  by  any  means  always  the  same 
in  the  same  family.  This  child  may  resemble  the 
father  in  this,  and  that  child  in  that.  In  reality, 
when  w^e  come  to  examine  closely,  we  see  that  no 
single  feature,  even,  owes  everything  absolutely  to 
one  parent  only.  Not  a  feature  of  the  face  that  is 
not  at  bottom,  in  one  point  or  another,  like  to  both 
its  ancestries;  not  a  shade  of  expression  that  does 
not  recall  in  varying  degrees  some  mingled  traits 
of  either  parent. 

It  is  just  the  same  in  mental  matters.  There  are 
family  characters  and  family  intelligences,  as  there 
are  family  faces  and  family  figures.  Each  individ- 
ual member  of  the  brood  has  its  own  variety  of  this 
typical  character.  Why  is  it,  then,  that  most  people 
won't  admit  their  own  essential  unity  and  identity 
of  character  with  their  brothers  and  their  sisters, 
their  cousins  and  their  aunts?  Vanity;  vanity; 
pure  human  vanity,  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  their  vio- 
lent reluctance !  Every  man  flatters  himself  at  heart 
that  he  possesses  an  immense  number  of  admirable 
traits  not  found  in  any  other  and  inferior  members 
of  his  own  family.  The  fact  is,  if  we  want  impar- 
tially to  discuss  this  question  of  character,  we  must 
each  leave  our  own  supernaturally  beautiful  char- 
acter out  of  the  question,  and  think  only  of  the 
vastly  inferior  and  ordinary  characters  of  other 
people.  Examined  from  this  impartial  and  object- 
ive point  of  view,  then,  other  families  beside  our 
own,  show  us  at  once  how  much  light  may  be  cast 
upon  the  origin  of  character  by  the  study  of  fath- 
ers and  mothers,  brothers  and  sisters,  first  and  sec- 
ond cousins,  and  so  forth. 

"If  character  results  in  the  way  I  say  it  does," 


142  CHARACriiR    AND    HAPPINBSS 

so  says  one,  "then  it  will  follow  that,  mentally  and 
physically,  twins  will  bear  more  resemblance  one 
to  another  than  ordinary  brothers  and  sisters  do." 

I  will  cite  a  couple  of  examples  which  bear  out 
this  conclusion : 

"In  one  case,  a  couple  of  twins — men — had  a 
quarrel  over  a  perfectly  unimportant  matter.  They 
came  to  very  high  words  and  parted  from  one 
another  in  bad  blood.  On  returning  to  their  rooms 
(they  lived  apart),  each  of  them  suffered  from  a  fit 
of  remorse,  and  sat  down  to  write  a  letter  of  con- 
trition to  the  other,  to  be  delivered  by  the  morning 
post.  After  writing  it,  one  brother  read  his  letter 
over  and,  recalling  the  cause  of  the  quarrel,  added 
at  once  a  long  postscript,  justifying  himself,  and 
reopening  the  whole  question  at  issue.  The  other 
brother  posted  his  note  at  once,  but,  thinking  the 
matter  over  quietly  afterwards,  regretted  his  action 
again,  and  supplemented  by  a  second  epistle,  almost 
unsaying  what  he  had  said  in  the  first  one." 

The  other  story  relates  to  a  fact  which  happened 
not  to  twins,  but  to  two  successive  brothers, 
extremely  like  one  another  in  build  and  features, 
and  evidently  modeled  in  mind  and  character  in 
the  same  mould.  "They  met  a  lady  dressed  in  blue, 
whom  they  had  never  seen  before,  at  a  military 
dance.  Each  of  them  asked  at  once  to  be  introduced 
to  her  at  first  sight ;  each  asked  the  same  officer  for 
an  introduction  (though  they  had  several  friends 
in  common  present)  ;  each  described  her  in  the  same 
way,  not  as  the  lady  in  blue,  but  as  the  lady  with 
the  beautiful  ears;  each  fell  desperately  in  love 
with  her  off-hand;  and  each  asked  for  a  particular 
flower  out  of  a  little  bouquet  containing  four  or  five 
more  conspicuous  blossoms.  Finally,  each  came  up 
at  the  end  of  the  evening  to  confide  in  the  same 
married  lady  of  their  acquaintance  their  desire  to 
see  more  of  the  beautiful  stranger." 


CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINBSS  143 

For  most  of  the  above  facts  I  am  indebted  to 
an  article  published  in  Cornhill  Magazine.  As  the 
facts  are  doubtless  true,  I  have  compiled  and  repro- 
duced them. 

Hitherto  we  have  given  attention  to  heredity 
and  its  effects  upon  character.  M'any  think  that 
heredity  is  almost  everything,  and  it  is  certainly  a 
great  deal,  for  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  change  or 
eradicate  traits  that  are  born  in  one.  Herbert 
Spencer  admitted  that  he  possessed  some  undesir- 
able traits  of  character,  which  he  inherited,  such  as 
impatience,  intollerance,  fault-finding  and  insub- 
mission.  It  seems  that  because  he  inherited  these 
traits,  he  regarded  it  as  useless  to  try  and  imprpve 
upon  them;  anyway,  there  is  no  record  of  his  try- 
ing to  so  improve;  he  preferred  to  let  them  have 
free  possession  of  the  field. 

It  is  evident  that  man  is  not  an  individual  only, 
but  a  member  of  a  large  family — the  human  fam- 
ily— and  that  it  is  incumbent  on  him  to  so  regulate 
his  character  that  it  will  harmonize  with  his  fellows. 
In  other  words,  he  must  develop  a  moral  nature. 
He  must  learn  what  conduct  on  his  part  will  be 
beneficial,  and  what  will  be  injurious  to  others,  and 
learn  to  practice  the  one  and  avoid  the  other. 

This  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  improves,  so 
that  there  is  a  great  difference  between  the  enlight- 
ened conscience  of  the  civilized  man  and  the  savage. 
Like  most  other  things,  its  difficulties  lie  at  the 
beginning,  and  it  is  by  steady  practice  that  it  passes 
into  an  instinctive  nature.  It  is  doubtless  true,  the 
power  of  man  to  change  and  improve  his  character 
is  a  limited  one,  but  on  the  whole  the  improvement 
of  character  is  probably  more  within  his  reach  than 
intellectual  improvement.  Time  and  opportunity 
are  wanting  to  most  men  for  any  considerable  intel- 
lectual study,  and  even  were  it  otherwise,  every  man 
will   find   large   tracts   of  knowledge   and   thought 


144  CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS 

wholly  external  to  his  tastes,  aptitudes  and  compre- 
hension. But  every  one  can  in  some  measure  learn 
the  lesson  of  self-sacrifice,  practice  what  is  right, 
correct,  or  at  least  mitigate,  his  dominant  faults. 
What  fine  examples  of  self-sacrifice,  quiet  courage, 
resignation  in  misfortune,  patient  performance  of 
painful  duty,  magnanimity  and  forgiveness  under 
injury  may  be  often  found  among  those  who  are 
intellectually  the  most  commonplace.  One  of  the 
most  important  lessons  that  experience  teaches  is 
that  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  success  in  life 
depends  more  on  character  than  on  either  intellect 
or  fortune.  What  we  need  for  our  ideal  in  this 
world  and  all  worlds  is  character,  organized  and 
consecrated  to  human  and  heroic  ends — the  spirit 
that  turns  from  the  common  greed  to  the  common 
good. 

HAPPINESS 

"One  of  the  first  questions  that  must  naturally 

come  to  every  writer,"  says  Mr.  Lecky,  ''who  deals 

w^ith  character,   is   what  influence   mere  discussion 

and  reasoning  can  have  in  promdting  the  happiness 

.of  men."     The^^Ckcumstances  oy  our  lives,  and  the 

/dispositions  of  our  character,  niainly  determine  the 

[measure  of  happiness  we   enjoy,   and   more  about 

I  the   causes   of   happinesK  and./  unhappiness   can   do 

/little  to  effect  them.     It  is^i^possible  to  obtain  any 

/  serious  knowledge  of  the  world  without  perceiving 

/    that  a  large  proportion  of  the  happiest  lives  and 

^f  characters  are  to  be  found  where  introspection,  self- 
analysis  and  reasoning  about  the  good  and  evil  of 
life  hold  the  smallest  place.  Happiness^gadeed,  like 
health,  is  one  of  the  things  of  wTiich  meii  rarel}^ 
thlnk,_except  \\4ien^tus  impaired,_andjriurh  _that 
has 'been^^wTtrterTonthe  subject  has  been  written 
ur;3irthe  stfesj  of  some  great  depression.  Such 
writers  areltke  the  man  in  Hagarth's  picture,  occu- 


CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS  145 

pying  himself  in  the  debtor's  prison  with  plans  for 
the  payment  of  the  national  debt. 

Man  comes  into  the  world  with  mental  and 
moral  characteristics  which  he  can  only  very  imper- 
fectly influence,  and  a  large  proportion  of  the 
external  circumstances  of  his  life  lie  wholly  or 
mainly  beyond  his  control.  At  the  same  time, 
every  one  recognizes  the  power  of  skill,  industry 
and  perseverance  to  modify  surrounding  circum- 
stances; the  power  of  temperance  and  prudence  to 
strengthen  a  naturally  weak  constitution,  prolong 
life  and  diminish  the  chances  of  disease;  the  power 
of  education  and  private  study  to  develop,  sharpen 
and  employ  to  the  best  advantage  our  intellectual 
faculites.  Every  one  also  recognizes  how  large  df 
part  of  the  unhappiness  of  most  men  may  be  directly 
traced  to  their  own  voluntary  and  deliberate  acts^ 
The  power  each  man  possesses  in  the  education  and 
management  of  his  character,  and  especially  in  the 
cultivation  of  his  dispositions  and  tendencies  which 
most  largely  contribute  to  happiness,  is  less  recog- 
nized and  is  perhaps  extensive,  but  is  not  less  real. 

I^en^continually  forget  that  happiness  is  a  con- 
dition of__mind  and  not  a  disposition  of  circum- 
stanceS;,  and  one  of  the  most  common  errors  is  that 
of  confusing  happiness  with  the  means  of  happiness, 
sacrificing  the^rst  for  the  attainment  of  the  second. 
It  is  the  error  of  the  miser,  who  begins  by  seeking 
money  for  the  enjoyment  it  procures,  and  ends  by 
making  the  mere  acquisition  of  money  his  sole 
object,  pursuing  it  to  the  sacrifice  of  all  rational 
ends  and  pleasures.  Circumstances  and  character  < 
both  contribute  to  happiiTess,  but  "the  proportionate 
attenti£m=f>aid^=to-one  or  other  of  these  great  depart- 
ments no.L-Qnly  varies -larg^ely  with  different  indi: 
viduals^but  also  \vith  different  natian5-aHHl2ifferent 
ages^ 

Some  systems  of  philosophy  look  mainly  to  the 


146  CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS 

formation  of  dispositions.  Stoicism  is  the  most  con- 
spicuous of  these.  The  paradox  of  the  stoic,  that 
good  and  evil  are  so  entirely  from  within  that  to  a 
wise  man  all  external  circumstances  are  indifferent, 
represents  this  view  of  life  in  its  extreme  form.  Its 
more  moderate  form  can  hardly  be  better  expressed 
than  in  the  saying  of  Dugald  Stewart,  that  ''the 
great  secret  of  happiness  is  to  study  to  accommodate 
our  own  minds  to  things  external  rather  than  to 
accommodate  things  external  to  ourselves." 

On  the  other  hand,  the  tendency  of  those 
philosophers  which  treat  man — his  opinions  and  his 
character — essentially  as  the  result  of  circumstances, 
and  which  aggrandize  the  influence  of  the  external 
world  upon  mankind  is,  in  the  opposite  direction, 
very  pronounced.  And  the  same  tendency  will  be 
naturally  found  in  the  most  active  industrial  and 
progressive  nations;  where  life  is  very  full  and 
busy ;  where  its  competitions  are  most  keen ;  where 
scientific  discoveries  are  rapidly  multiplying  pleas- 
ures and  diminishing  pains;  where  town  life,  with 
its  constant  hurry  and  change,  is  the  most  promi- 
nent. In  such  spheres  men  naturally  incline  to  seek 
happiness  from  without  rather  than  from  within,  or, 
in  other  words,  to  seek  it,  much  less  by  acting 
directly  on  the  mind  and  character  than  through 
the  indirect  method  of  improved  circumstances. 

English  character  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic 
is  eminently  a  character  in  which  thoughts,  inter- 
ests and  emotions  are  most  habitually  thrown  on 
that  which  is  without.  Introspection  and  self- 
analysis  are  not  congenial  to  it.  The  whole  tone  of 
society  forms  it. 

In  times  of  great  sorrow,  a  degree  of  shame  is 
attached  to  demonstrations  of  grief  which  in  other 
countries  would  be  deemed  perfectly  natural.  The 
disposition  to  dilate  upon  and  perpetuate  an  old 
grief     by     protracted     mournings,     by     carefully 


CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS  147 

observed  anniversaries,  by  long  periods  of  retire- 
ment from  the  world,  is  much  less  common  than 
on  the  continent,  and  is  certainly  diminishing. 
Improved  conduct  and  improved  circumstances  are, 
to  an  English  mind,  the  chief  and  almost  only  meas- 
ures of  progress. 

That  this  tendency  is,  on  the  whole,  a  healthy 
one  for  the  part  that  circumstances  play  in  the 
formation  of  our  characters  is,  indeed,  very  mani- 
fest, and  it  is  a  humiliating  truth  that  among  these 
circumstances  mere  bodily  conditions  which  we 
share  with  the  animals  holds  a  foremost  place. 

In  the  Jong  run,  and  to  the  great  majority  of 
menliealth  is  probably  jth£--niQ^t  4mpartant  -of  all 
threkmerrtr^l:  happiness.  Acute  physical  suffering 
or  shatteredl^aTth  will  more  than-counterbalaace 
the  best  §lfts__of_fortujae.  At  the  same  time  we 
should  not  fail  to  note  the  fact  that  the  habit  which 
so  often  grows  upon  men  with  slight  chronic  mala- 
dies or  feeble  temperament  or  idle  lives,  of  making 
their  own  health  and  their  own  ailments  the  most 
constant  subject  of  their  thoughts,  soon  becomes 
a  disease  very  fatal  to  happiness  and  positively 
injurious  to  health.  "I  firmly  believe,"  says  one, 
''that  half  of  the  confirmed  invalids  of  the  day 
could  be  cured  of  their  maladies  if  they  were  com- 
pelled to  live  busy  and  active  lives  and  had  no  time 
to  fret  over  their  miseries.  One  of  the  most  seduc- 
tive and  mischievous  errors  in  self-management  is 
the  practice  of  giving  way  to  interia,  weakness  and 
depression.  Those  who  desire  to  live  should  settle 
this  well  in  their  minds,  that  nerve  power  is  the 
force  of  life,  and  that  the  will  has  a  wonderously 
strong  and  direct  influence  over  the  body  through 
the  brain  and  the  nervous  systein-.-" 

One  of  the  first  «g.nd  mzTst  clearly  recognized  j 
rules  to  be  observed  is  tlia^appiness  is  most  likely  \ 
to  be  attained  when  it  is  iibt  thi^direct  object  of  pur^ 

/  / 


148  CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS 

suit     .Vn  ideal  life  should  be  furnished  with  abund- 
ant  work  that  brings  with  it  much  interest.     The 
first  great  rule  is  that  we  must  do  something — life 
must  have  a  purpose  and  an  aim — that  work  should 
be  not  merely  occasional  and  spasmodic,  but  steady 
and   continuous.      Pleasure   is   a   jewel   which   will 
only  retain  its  luster  when  it  is  in  a  setting  gf^  work, 
id  a  vacant  life  is  one  of  the  worst  paiii^.^ 
Another  great  truth   is  that   a   \yi^e  man   will 
make  it  his  aim  rather  to  avoid  snlrering  than  to 
attain  pleasure.     The  conscious  and  deliberate  pur- 
suit of  pleasure  is  attended  by  many  deceptions  and 
illusions,  and  rarely  leads  to  lasting  happiness.    But 
we  can  do  very  much  by  prudence,  self-restraint  and 
intelligent  regulation  so  to  manage  life  as  to  avoid 
a   large   proportion   of    its    calamities,    and    at   the 
same  time,   by  preserving  the  affections  pure   and 
undimmed,   by   diversifying  interests  and   forming 
^  active  habits,  to  combat  its  tedium  and  despondency. 
It  w^ould  probably  be  found,  upon  examination,  that 
most  men  who  have  devoted  lives  successfully  to 
great  labors  and  ambitions,  and  who  have  received 
/  the  most  splendid  gifts  from  Fortune  have,  never- 
^theless,  found  their  chief  pleasure  in  things  uncon- 
/  nected  with  their  rnain  pursuit,  and  generally  within 
/  the   reach   of   common   men.      Domestic   pleasures, 
V, pleasures  of  scenery,  pleasures  of  reading,  pleasures 
of  travel  or  of  sport  have  been  the  highest  enjoy- 
ment of  men  of  great  intellect,  w^ealth  and  position. 
'Though    the    close    relationship    that    subsists 
between     morals     and     happiness     is     universally 
acknowledged,  I  do  not  belong  to  the  school,"  says 
Mr.   Lecky,  whom  I  am  quoting,   ''which  believes 
that  pleasure  and  pain,  either  actually  anticipated, 
are  the  only  motives  by  which  the  human  will  can 
be  governed;    that  virtue  resolves  itself  ultimately 
into  well-considered  interests  and  finds  its  ultimate 
interest  and  finds  its  ultimate  reason  in  the  happi- 


CHARACTER    AND    HAPPINESS  U9 

ness  of  those  who  practice  it;  that  all  our  virtues 
end  in  self-love,  as  the  rivers  in  the  sea."  This  is 
making  virtue  too  much  of  a  selfish  thing.  It  makes 
self-interest  too  much  the  criterion  of  right  and 
wrong.  For  such  reasons  as  these  I  believe  it  to  be 
impossible  to  identify  virtue  with  happiness.  Even 
when  the  connection  is  most  close  between  virtue 
and  pleasure,  it  is  true,  as  the  old  Stoics  said,  ''that, 
though  virtue  gives  pleasure,  this  is  not  the  reason 
why  a  good  man  will  practice  it;  that  pleasure  is 
the  companion,  and  not  the  guide  of  his  life ;  that  he 
does  not  love  virtue  because  it  gives  pleasure,  but  it 
gives  pleasure  because  he  loves  it." 

The  latter  part  of  this  paper  has  been  compiled 
largely  from  the  writings  of  Mr.  Lecky,  of  Eng- 
land. 

11- 


Causes  of  Happiness 

There  are  men  and  women  who  have  through 
Hfe,  and  by  some  fortunate  heredity  of  constitution, 
supplemented  by  cares  of  an  individual  kind,  gone 
through  long  trying  eventful  careers  with  perfection 
of  happiness.  Joseph  Priestly  was  one  of  these  for- 
tunates.  "I  was  born,"  says  he,  ''of  a  happy  dis- 
)Osition."  And  so  this  man,  through  a  life  of 
struggle  and  tempest  such  as  few  men  have  known, 
was  ever  in  happiness.  In  his  child-life,  he  loses 
Ris  mother.  He  leaves  his  home,  and  is  domiciled 
by  his  aunt  whose  gloomy  tenets  would  drive  some 
natures  to  the  deepest  melancholy.  He  passes 
through  severe  changes  of  thought  on  solemn  sub- 
jects. He  becomes  a  preacher,  but  owing  to  a 
defect  of  speech  cannot  display  an  eloquence  he 
knows  is  in  him,  and  tossed  from  pulpit  to  pulpit, 
penniless,  is  forced  to  teach  that  he  may  live.  He 
becomes  half  friend,  half  librarian  of  a  nobleman, 
by  whom  he  is  petted  at  first,  and  then,  with  the 
capreciousness  of  power,  is  turned  off  as  a  once- 
favored  dog  might  be,  without  a  word  of  explana- 
tion. He  makes  one  of  the  grandest  discoveries  of 
the  century  and  lives  to  see  it  accredited  to  another 
man  to  whom  he  communicated  it  in  the  most  open 
manner.  Suspected  of  sympathizing  w^ith  children 
of  liberty,  he  becomes,  under  the  vengeance  of  a 
vulgar  priest,  the  victim  of  an  ignorance,  which 
burns  his  house  and  all  his  precious  papers,  and  he 
escapes  barely  with  his  life.  Coming  to  London,  he 
is  obliged  to  hide  from  enmity,  and   (crudest  cut 

150 


CAUSES    Of    HAPPINESS  151 

of  all)  is  disowned  by  and  cast  out  of  the  learned 
society,  whose  work  he  has  helped  to  immortalize. 
At  last,  driven  in  his  old  age  from  his  native  coun- 
try, he  goes  to  a  foreign  and  distant  land,  forgiving 
every  one,  to  die  there  in  perfect  peace. 

Such  changes  as  these,  such  oppressions  through 
every  stage  of  life,  would  kill  an  ordinary  man. 
Yet  here  was  a  man  who  went  through  every  phase 
of  suffering  with  happiness.  He  personally  explains 
the  reason:     ''I  was  born  with  a  happy  disposition. '\ 

We  gather  from  such  instances  as  these  (rare,  ] 
it  is  true,  but  reliable,)  that  in  the  range  of  physical  S 
life  there  is  a  happiness  Htie  to  heredity;    to  some  I 
combinations    of   ancestry  Awhich,   being   repeated,  ' 
would  lead   to  the  birth  oK  an   almost  new   race^ 
amongst  which  Priestly's  ow^n  desire — ''the  great-'' 
est  good  for  the  greatest  number" — would  be  the 
common  blessing. 

There  is  another  proof  of  happiness  which  comes  S 
within  the  knowledge  of  the  majority  of  mankind,  ^\ 
although  it  is  not  universal.  This  proof  consists  of 
a  sensation  felt  of  happiness,  which  often  in  conse- 
quence of  its  abruptness  and  sharp  contrast  with 
what  has  gone  before,  so  that  the  event  is  often 
recalled  and  often  expected  with  anticipation.  At/ 
such  moments  the  actual  cares  of  the  world  sit 
lightly.  The  impossible  a  short  time  before  becomes 
the  possible  or  the  easy.  Dark  forebodings  which 
have  pressed  almost  to  despair  pass  away,  and  the 
future  is  roseate  with  prospect.  There  are  few  who 
have  not  experienced  this  curious  change  toward 
happiness. 

If  happiness  can  be  obtained  for  one  day,  for>^ 
one   hour,    why   not   for   all   days,    for   all    hours  ?y 
Common  folk  call  it  lightness  of  spirit,  light-heart^ 
edness,  being  lifted  up  above  the  common  fate  of 
daily  oppression  and  daily  sorrow. 

'The  symptoms  of  happiness  it  is  desirable  to 


152  CAUSES    OP    HAPPINESS 

U)  know.  In  the  wake  of  happiness,  the  pulse  is 
regular,  tonic,  free ;  the  l)reathing  is  natural ;  the 
eye  is  bright  and  clear;  the  countenance,  even  in 
age,  is  youthful;  the  appetites  are  keen,  but  orderly; 
the  judgment  is  sound,  but  joyous;  the  muscular 
bearing  is  firm,  steady;  there  is  no  indication  of 
carrying  a  load  on  the  back,  or  of  oppressive  sinking 
exhaustion." 

I  will  pass  to  the  thought  of  how  to  extend  this 
state — a  thought  which,  according  to  my  view,  is 
eminently  practical.  To  arrive  at  the  idea  of  the 
mode  of  working  in  this  direction,  we  cannot  do 
better  than  survey,  in  the  first  place,  the  conditions 
under  w^hich  the  phenomena  of  happiness  and  its 
counterpart — depression  or  unhappiness — are  mani- 
fested. By  a  sort  of  general  impression,  the  weather 
is  believed  to  exert  a  peculiar  influence  for  and 
Lgainst  the  phenomena  of  happiness.  In  this  view 
there  is  some  undoubted  truth;  an  increase  of  the 
(atmospheric  pressure,  which  we  have  when  the 
smoke  of  the  chimney  rises,  and  a  decrease  which 
sjve  have  when  the  smoke  fails  to  rise,  but  settles 
near  the  earth,  is  each  a  cause  of  happiness  or 
otherwise.  In  ascending  from  valleys  to  moderate 
heights,  there  is,  up  to  a  certain  distance,  a  distinct 
effect  of  this  kind.  "So  definite  is  the  action  that 
I  know,"  says  Dr.  Richardson,  ''of  one  person  who, 
under  some  conditions,  feels  that  life  is  a  load  too 
hard  to  bear,  but  who  in  a  dry,  bright,  mountain 
region  throw^s  off  the  despair  altogether  and  lives 
a  new  life. 

In  the  nicely  adjusted  balance  of  atmospheric 
pressure  against  animal  circulation  of  blood,  the 
circulation  is  relieved  by  a  moderate  removal  of 
pressure.  The  brightness  of  mind  induced  by 
removal  of  pressure  and  free  circulation  is,  how- 
ever,   subject   to   other   conditions.      Dryness   must 


CAUSES    OF    HAPPINESS  153 

accompany  lightness  of  air  to  produce  the  condition 
favorable  to  happiness. 

There  are  electrical  conditions  of  the  atmosphere 
during  which  happiness  contrasts  strongly  and 
strangely  with  the  depression  incident  to  other  con- 
ditions. 

How  the  dryness  af  the  air,  peculiar  to  our  cli- 
mate as  distinguished  from  that  of  Europe,  excites 
nervousness,  and  thereby  affects  happiness,  is  of  the 
highest  practical  interest.  In  regard  to  the  electrical 
scate  of  a  dry  atmosphere,  this  general  fact  is  quite 
clear :  that  the  electricity  which  is  found  in  all  states 
of  the  atmosphere  is  less  easily  and  uniformly  dif- 
fused, and  more  liable  to  various  disturbances 
through  inequalities  of  tension,  when  the  air  is  dry 
than  when  it  is  moist.  Moisture  conducts  electricity, 
and  an  atmosphere  well  charged  with  moisture,  other 
conditions  being  the  same,  will  tend  to  keep  the  elec- 
tricity in  a  state  of  equilibrium,  since  it  allows  free 
and  ready  conduction  of  it  at  all  times  and  in  all 
directions.  Hence  it  does  not  accumulate  in  certain 
localities  as  electric  clouds,  as  they  are  called,  and 
give  rise  to  certain  minor  discharges,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  human  beings.  The  human  body, 
therefore,  when  surrounded  by  a  moist  atmosphere, 
never  has  its  own  electrical  condition  seriously  dis- 
turbed, nor  is  it  liable  to  sudden  and  frequent  disturb- 
ances from  the  want  of  equilibrium  in  the  air  in 
which  it  moves. 

Mr.  Hingeston,  of  Brighton,  England,  has  very 
beautifully  connected  these  varying  states  of  atmos- 
phere and  these  varying  states  of  mind  with  cloud- 
land.  He  sees  in  the  clouds  the  outward  and  visible 
signs  of  the  mental  state  in  the  large  and  white- 
headed  masses  that  collect  in  clear  bright  days, 
indicating  storms  of  hail,  rain  and  thunder,  and 
that  gyrate  from  left  to  right.  On  the  approach  of 
one  of  these  masses  of  vapor,  the  mercury  of  the 


154  CAUSES    OF    HAPPINESS 

barometer  first  falls  and  then  rises  with  great 
rapidity.  The  acconipam^ng  and  residua.l_state  of 
the  atmospheiTlTcoiigen^^  to  health.  "^Tlie  favorable 
'feaction  6f  the~mind  is  serene  and  happy.  The  air 
in  these  nfoments  is  antagonistic  of  disease.  With 
the  breaking  up  and  dissolving  of  these  large  masses 
of  clouds,  there  is  electric  action.  The  entire  atmos- 
phere changes.  Everything  is  dull  and  gray.  The 
so-called  dyspepsia  prevails,  the  acid  indigestion  of 
gouty  habits  reveals  itself.  So  that  clouds  may  be 
considered  not  only  picturesque  beauties  in  the  land- 
scape, but  also  as  criterions  for  judging  of  some  of 
the  most  potent  effects  resulting  from  the  operation 
of  an  experiment  silently  and  delicately  performed 
upon  the  functions  and  sensations  of  animated 
beings. 

Cold  and  heat  play  ditlerent  parts  in  the  produc- 
tioiT"and  reduction  of  happiness.  A  dry  and  sharp 
cold  wave  exerts  a  gentle  pressure  on  the  surface  of 
the  body,  which  fills  the  nervous  centers  with  blood 
and  helps  to  felicity  of  mind.  A  long  and  piercing 
easterly,  chilling  wind  checks  circulation,  robs  heat, 
and  produces  even  melancholic  sadness.  A  dry, 
genial  warmth  acts  like  a  bracing  cold.  A  long 
warmth,  w^ith  moisture,  checks  the  vital  action  and 
produces  a  degree  of  depression  which  may  be  as 
intense  as  that  w^hich  is  induced  by  prolonged 
exposure  to  cold. 

/  The  seasons  of  the  year  which  are  attended  with 
/least  exhaustion  of  the  body  are  those  which  favor 
khappiness.  When  the  exhaustion  of  the  winter  and 
aepressing  spring  months  has  been  removed  by  the 
warmth  of  a  genial  summer  and  autumn,  the  time 
is  most  favorable  for  serenity  of  mind.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  exhaustion  of  winter  and  spring 
induces  depression,  and  is  no  doubt  the  cause  of 
that  melancholy  which  renders  the  months  of  spring 
the  maximum  periods  of  death  by  suicide. 


CAUSES    OF    HAPPINESS  155 

\ 
Purity  of_the  atmosphere  i^  an  unquestionable 
aid  to  happiness.  The  comparison  of  children  liv- 
ing under  different  circumstances  is  sufficient  proof 
of  this  fact.  The  children  of  an  open,  well-venti- 
lated school-room — how  dift'erent  are  they  from 
those  who  are  immured  in  some  of  the  close,  over- 
packed  dens  which  are  called  school-rooms!  Com- 
pare the  felicity  of  the  children  of  the  well-to-do 
who  live  out  of  doors  with  that  of  the  children  of 
the  small  trader,  whose  back  parlor  is  living-room 
and  play-ground;  or  the  happiness  of  the  man  or 
woman  who  leads  an  out-door  life  \^■ith  that  of  those 
who  live  in  the  close  office  or  work-room. 

There  are  still  other  agencies  which  bring  or 
check  human  happiness,   and  which  are  as  purely 
physical  in  character  as  those  above  recorded.  There 
are  substances  which,  taken  into  the  body,  produce 
strange  contrasts  in  respect  to  happiness  and  depres- 
sion.    Foods  well  cooked,  foods  carefully  selected,  \ 
foods  supplied  in  sufficient  quantity  to  sustain  the/ 
body  equally  in  all  its  parts,  and  so  moderate-  asS 
never  to  oppress  the  nervous  digestive  powers,  alT 
conduce  to  happiness  in  the  most  telling  manner.  ' 

As  a  rule,  all  agents  which  stimulate,  that  is  to 
say,  relax  the  arterial  tension,  and  so  allow  the 
blood  freer  course  through  the  organs,  for  a  time 
promote  happiness,  but  in  the  reaction  leave  depres- 
sion. Tea  has  this  effect.  It  causes  a  short  and 
slight  felicity.  It  causes,  in  a  large  number  of  per- 
sons, a  long  and  severe  and  painful  sadness.  There 
are  many  who  never  know  a  day  of  happiness  owing 
to  this  one  destroying  cause. 

There  is  another  agent  more  determinate  in  its 
effects,  and  that  is  wine.  Wine  maketh  the  heart 
glad,  but  the  reaction  from  it  is  of  the  bitterest  of 
human  sufferings.  The  whole  of  the  narcotic  series 
of  substances,  in  the  use  of  which  human  beings 


156  CAUSUS    OF    HAPPINESS 

indulge  in  order  to  secure  felicity,  comes  under  the 
same  condemnation  as  the  two  last-named  agents. 
The  habitual  use  of  opium  for  the  desire  of  happi- 
ness is  of  the  same  erroneous  character.  The  opium 
smoker,  the  opium  eater,  tell_us  of^  certain  dreams 
aiid3p!iantasies~  whicE^re  for  a  moment  felicitous 
wanderings^jf  the  mind;  then  he  falls  into  abjec- 
tion, whicli  deepens  and  deepens  until  the  desire  to 
return  to  the  cause  of  the  dejection  is  too  over- 
povv€Ti«g^-ie-be-rcs!sted . 

I  have  dwelt  thus  far  on  influences  of  a  purely 
physical  kind  in  their  relation  to  happiness.  I  must 
pass  from  these  to  a  consideration  of  influences  of 
a  different  nature.  In  touching  on  this  side  of  our 
subject,  the  question  of  hereditary  constitution 
comes  prominently  into  view. 

There  are  some  constitutional  differences  deter- 
mined by  temperament  which  are  of  first  import- 
ance. Of  the  four  primary  temperaments — the  san- 
guine, the  nervous,  the  bilious,  the  lymphatic — and 
of  their  relation  to  happiness,  a  volume  might  be 
written.  I  must  here  be  content  to  record  as  a 
general  fact  that  in  the  earlier  days  of  life,  the  san- 
guine is  the  happier  temperament,  but  not  the  most 
sustained ;  that  the  dark  or  billions  is  the  least  happy 
in  early  life,  but  is  often,  in  time,  rendered  very 
serene ;  that  the  nervous  yields  a  varying  condition, 
full  of  ups  and  downs ;  that  the  lymphatic,  or  white- 
blooded  temperament,  is  by  a  negative  effect  the 
most  even. 

The  moral  influences  and  impressions  affecting 
these  natures  are,  from  first  to  last,  potent  on  most 
of  the  temperaments.  In  childhood,  the  future  his- 
tory of  the  happy  or  unhappy  after-life  is  usually 
written. 

As  a  rule,  the  tendency  to  happiness  or  the 
opposite  is  planted. 


CAUSES    OF    HAPPINESS  157 

Let  me,  as  bearing  on  these  matters  of  thought, 
not  diverge,  but  encourage,  to  our  present  study  by 
a  reference  to  the  position  of  happiness  as  a  physio- 
logical quality  in  life.  Of  the  two  natures  with 
which  man  is  endow^ed,  and  which,  by  the  duality, 
distinguish  him  from  the  lower  creation — the  pure 
animal  and  the  pure  intellectual  natures — happiness 
belongs  to  his  animal  nature.    / 

Happiness  and  misery  are  the  signs  of  his  still 
animal  character.      Happm^S,  in  short,   is  not  an/ 
intellectual  faculty  at  all ;    it  is  not  seated  in  the  '^^ 
brain.     It  is  not  a  quality  which  a  man  can  thinkj 
himself  into,  or  reason  himself  into,  or  directly  will 
himself  into.      It  is,  like  the  beating  of  his  heart 
and  the  circulation  of  his  blood,   a   vital   process, 
going  on  indenepdently  of  his  volition. 

Happiness    and    its    counterpart    are    not    intel-*^ 
lectual  faculties,  neither  are  they  passions,  neitherl 
have  they  any  direct  relationship  to  physical  pain./ 
They  are  distinct  from  intellect,  passion  or  physical 
pain.     They  are  the  only  true  emotions.     The  man 
who  is  destitute  altogether  of  happiness  is  not  of 
necessity  deficient  in  intellectual  power,  or  destitute 
of  passion,  or  more  or  less  sensitive  to  pain  than 
any  one  else.    The  most  intellectual  may  be  the  most  ^ 
miserable;    the  most  silly  and  inconsequent  may  be 
the  most  blest  with  happiness. 

'The  worst  instance  of  extreme,  I  may  say,  truly 
harrowing,  misery  I  ever  saw"  says  one,  'Svas  in 
one  of  judicial  mind,  whose  clearness  and  calmness 
of  judgment  was  a  subject  of  general  admiration, 
but  who  never,  he  told  me,  had  known  (notwith- 
standing his  eminent  success)  in  all  his  life  an  hour 
of  happiness." 

"The  man  most  replete  with  happiness  I  ever 
knew,"  so  says  the  same  author,  'Svas  one  who  was 


158  CAUSES    OF    HAPPINESS 

endowed  with  no  intellectual   supremacy,  and  who 
was  all  through  a  long  life  a  veritable  child." 

"The  center  of  the  emotion  of  happiness  is  not 
in  the  brain,"  so  says  Dr.  Richardson.  ''The  center 
is  in  the  vital  nervous  system,  in  the  great  ganglia 
of  the  sympathetic,  lying  not  in  the  skull  or  back- 
bone, but  in  the  great  cavities  of  the  body  near  the 
stomach  and  near  the  heart.  We  know  where  the 
glow  which  indicates  happiness  is  felt;  our  poets 
have  described  it  w^th  perfect  truthfulness  as  in  the 
breast ;  it  comes  as  a  fire  kindling  there.  NoJryiiLg— 
being  ever  felt  happy  in  the  head.  Everybod^_vvho 
has  been  happy  has  felt  it  from  wtthrn  tHebody. 

"We  know,  again,  where  the  depressioiiTof  mis- 
ery is  located.  The  man  who  is  ever  miserable  is  a 
'hypochondiac'  His  affection  is  below  the  ribs. 
No  man  ever  felt  miserable  in  the  head.  He  is 
broken-hearted;  he  is  bent  down,  and  his  shoulders 
feel  oppressed  by  a  weight." 

I  will  now  invite  your  attention  to  another  set 
of  influences :  I  notice,  in  the  first  place,  that  happi- 
ness is  always  increased  by  sufficiency  of  rest  and 
sleej).  Those  who  sleep  in  childhood  and  oMage 
ten  hours,  in  adolescence  nine,  and  in  middle  age 
eight  hours,  soundly,  out  of  twenty-four  are  mostly 
well  favored  with  the  blessing.  I  put  sleep  in  the 
first  place  as  an  aid  to  happiness  because  it  is  the 
first.  I  have  no  knowledge  of  any  instance  in  which 
a  person  who  slept  well  was  altogether  devoid  of 
happiness.  The  beneficent  action  of  sleep  in  regard 
to  happiness  is,  however,  indirect.  It  is  due  to  the 
physical  and  mental  strength  which  it  confers  on 
those  it  favors. 

^Strength  of  body  secures  happiness.  Persons 
comparatively  weak  of  mind  __niay,  with  good 
physique  be  happy,  but  very  few  wHo~~are  weaE  of 
body  hav^-atiy  4eng^jtastes  of  happiness.     We  may 


CAUSES    OF    HAPPINESS  159 

take  it  all  around  that  the  feeble  of  all  ages  are 
unhappy.  It  is  a  matter  of  common  observation 
that  persons  who  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  born 
deformed  of  body,  though  the  defect  be  concealed 
or  hidden,  are  not  blessed  with  happiness.  It  is  the 
bad  health  as  the  rooted  cause  of  the  defect  which 
tells.  Any  sign  of  inherited  weakness  is  an  equal 
sign  of  absent  happiness,  though  it  be  no  marked 
hpysical  defect. 

Cardanus  observed  that  persons  who,  from  early 
life,  showed  very  large  and  prominent  veins,  and 
thereby  a  languid  circulation  of  blood  are  never 
happy,  while  those  of  well-knit  body  are.  The 
observation  is  perfect.  Physicians  know  that  a  slug- 
gish circulation  is  incompatible  with  happiness,  and 
that  they  who  show  this  indication  are  amongst  the 
most  depressed.  When  the  circulation  is  sluggish 
the  liver  is  sluggish  and  the  brain  is  sluggish  and  the 
nervous  centers  are  depressed. 

''When  the  sun  of  life  is  high, 

All  is  bright; 
When  the  sun  of  life  is  low. 

All  is  night. 
Thus  we  laugh  and  thus  we  sigh — 
Light  and  shade  where'er  we  go." 

Physical  work,  when  it  is  carried  to  an  extent 
short  of  exhaustion,  keeps  up  happiness,  and  sloth 
destroys  it.  But  the  physical  work  that  exhausts 
kills  happiness.  The  argument  extends  to  mental 
work.  Moderate,  wholesome,  mental  work  is  the 
best  of  all  aids  to  happiness.  Next  to  sleep,  .  it 
strengthens  the  mind,  it  softens  grief,  and  soothes 
care.  Carried  to  excess  it  is  pernicious  and  destroys 
all  happiness. 

I  have  striven  so  far  to  indicate  what  may  be 
called  the  phvsiological  bearino-s  of  the  subjecl.  In 
these  respects,  happiness  stands  precisely  in  the  same 


It50  CAUSES    Of    HAPPINESS 

position  as  health ;  in  the  widest  sense  means  health, 
and  is  another  word  for  health.     Health,  like  happi-\^ 
ness,    is   horn,    is   made   and   unmade   by   external/ 
agencies,  which  as  yet  are  out  of  human  controly 
Health  resembles  happiness,  also  that  it  depends  on 
the  good  working  of  the  animal  system  of  life. 

Twenty-five  years  ago  the  above  sentiments  were 
advanced  by  Dr.  Benjamin  Ward  Richardson,  from 
whose  writings  I  have  compiled  this  paper,  as  these 
views  are  true  today. 


SOME    ELEMENTS    OF    HAPPINESS  165 

Friends  we  need.  We  need  to  hear  the  human 
voice.  We  need  some  one  to  hsten  to  us.  The 
pleasure  we  receive  from  the  flow  of  conversation 
and  the  interchange  of  ideas  is  not  fully  appreciated. 
We  need  friends,  not  to  make  us  more  law-abiding 
or  more  religious,  or  better  people  in  any  way,  but 
to  make  us  happy.  Most  persons  have  not  the  time 
to  spare  to  entertain  a  multitude  of  friends. 

Giving  our  time  to  the  happiness  of  others  is  a 
worthy  object,  but  the  question  is,  would  we  not 
succeed  better  in  promoting  that  happiness  by  giv- 
ing more  time  to  improving  ourselves,  so  as  to  fit  us 
for  the  effectual  promotion  of  the  happiness  of 
others. 

Doubtless  Emmerson  was  wrong  when  he  said 
"we  must  walk  this  earth  alone."  And  Thomas 
Moore  was  right  when  he  said,  ''unthinking  heads 
who  have  not  learned  to  be  alone  are  prisoners  to 
themselves,  if  they  be  not  with  others."  And  Patha- 
goras  was  right  when  he  said,  "do  not  shake  hands 
with  too  many." 

Friendship  has  come  largely  to  men  planning 
and  doing  things  together.  It  is  a  communion  of 
interests  and  tastes,  rather  than  of  thought  and  soul. 
People  meet  in  groups  at  one  another's  houses,  or  at 
their  clubs,  discuss  the  affairs  of  the  day,  and 
exchange  kindly  courtesies.  But  those  who  call  them- 
selves friends  part  forever  without  tears,  and  the 
world  is  not  perceptibly  darkened.  All  this  may 
imply  a  more  sensible  view  of  things  and  a  rational 
widening  of  human  interests.  It  is  possibly  better 
to  love  many  people  a  little  than  a  few  people  a  great 
deal.  And  then  again,  it  is  possibly  better  not  to  be 
too  intimate,  as  there  is  something  like  electrical 
influene  in  our  actions.  When  two  bodies  of  oppo- 
site electrical  states  come  near  each  other,  they 
exchange  electrical  conditions  and  become  electric- 
ally alike  and,  electrically  speaking,  like  bodies  repel 

12- 


106  SOME    ELEMENTS    OF    HAPPINESS 

each  other.  Therefore,  the  old  adage,  "Familiarity 
breeds  contempt;"  because  each  individual  is  jeal- 
ous of  his  own  individuality  and  right  of  personality 
and  privacy.  A  few,  possibly,  a  very  few,  intimate 
friends,  however,  are  desirable  to  help  to  smooth 
down  the  rough  places  of  life,  and  lend  additional 
brightness  to  its  bright  oases. 

The  next  element  of  happiness  I  will  dwell  on 
consists  in  following  inherited  aptitudes.  To  most 
of  us  the  chance  of  happiness  rests  upon  the  develop- 
ment of  the  individual  gift.  Let  each  man  find  out 
what  thing  it  is  that  nature  specially  intended  him 
to  do,  and  do  it.  Work  is  only  toil  when  it  is  the 
performance  of  duties  for  which  nature  did  not  fit 
us,  and  a  congenial  occupation  is  only  serious  play. 
If  a  man  has  an  overwhelming  disposition  to  become 
a  lawyer  or  a  physician  or  stock  broker,  and  a  talent 
for  any  of  these  things,  let  no  force  of  persuasion 
or  trick  of  circumstances  induce  him  to  abandon 
them  in  favor  of  the  fine  arts,  or  anything  else.  The 
happy  are  those  who  possess  their  own  souls,  whose 
attitude  toward  life  and  their  fellowmen  is  firmly 
chosen  and  faithfully  preserved.  This  mastery  can 
only  be  attained  through  the  liberal  development  of 
that  special  aptitude  or  faculty  which  nature  has 
implanted  in  each  man  for  the  purDoses  of  self- 
expression  and  the  services  of  mankind.  The  un- 
happy are  those  who  lack  faith  in  themselves,  who 
Vlo  not  know  what  they  want,  who  are  at  variance 
with  nature  in  the  corroding  conflict  of  passion  and 
uncertain  ideals.  Nature  abhors  above  all  things  a 
vacant  soul,  and  she  seems  disposed  to  let  loose 
upon  it  every  poisonous  humor  in  order  that  it  may 
become  untenable  to  its  possessor. 

In  a  free  and  characteristic  activity,  though  we 
may  never  fully  attain  the  ends  we  seek,  we  shall 
easily  annul  and  disregard  all  the  secondary  and 
feverish  yearnings  which  harass  and  perplex  the  soul. 


SOME    ELEMENTS    OF    HAPPINESS  167 

What  man  is  more  happy  than  the  retired  student, 
who  desires  no  better  company  than  his  beloved 
books  ?  The  poet  who  has  succeeded  in  perpetuating 
in  perfect  verse  some  genuine  sally  of  beautiful  emo- 
tion; or,  to  come  down  to  modes  of  self-expression 
as  honorable,  if  less  distinguished,  the  true  carpenter 
or  iron-worker  or  stone-cutter  whose  spirit  is  easily 
occupied  in  the  production  of  things  excellent  in 
their  practical  beauty  and  usefulness.  Such  spirits 
have  it  in  them  to  flow  lucidly  and  serenely,  lapsing 
over  all  obstacles  with  the  silent  smoothness  of  deep 
and  swift  waters.  They  are  happy,  not  because  they 
have  no  rebelious  propensities,  no  faults  or  discords 
of  temperament,  but  because  they  have  shaped  for 
themselves  an  adequate  safety  valve.  There  is  in 
every  character  that  is  worth  anything  a  good  deal 
of  superfluous  energy — energy  over  and  above  what 
is  required  for  the  discharge  of  the  common  duties 
of  life.  If  a  man  has  not  some  living  occupation 
born  of  the  quality  of  his  own  soul  in  which  the 
superfluous  energy  may  expend  itself  in  creative 
activity,  it  gathers  and  ferments  there  as  a  bitter 
and  distinctive  humor.  If  it  is  strictly  suppressed, 
it  breeds  ennui,  hypochondria  and  despair.  Unhappy 
is  the  soul  which  is  possessed  by  an  energy  too  way- 
ward and  too  violent  to  be  appeased  by  any  normal 
activity ;  an  energy  driven  to  find  vent  in  wild  tragic 
excess.  To  those  natures  whose  aptitudes  and 
impulses  are  exceptionally  quick  and  stronp-,  one  of 
the  greatest  dangers  to  happiness  is  in  the  refusal 
to  accept  genially  the  limitations  which  society  has 
set  to  the  undue  expansion  of  the  individual.  The 
uncontrolled  nature  of  genius  has  often  dashed  itself 
in  youthful  rebellion  against  the  host  of  circum- 
stances and  brought  forth  from  the  struggle,  only 
wretchedness  and  ruin.  To  each  one  of  us  there 
seems  to  be  a  barrier  here  and  a  barrier  there,  which 
we  cannot  but  think  that  nature  intended  us  roughly 


168  SOMli    ELUMENTS    OF    HAPPINESS 

to  overstep,  since  she  planted  in  us  exceptional 
forces. 

It  is  our  business  to  plant  ourselves  within  the 
narrow  limits  of  practical  life  and  let  the  spirit  shine 
there  to  its  utmost  intensity.  Thus  the  poet,  when 
he  might  give  to  the  impulse  of  expression  the  freest 
and  wildest  liberty  chooses  to  confine  himself  within 
the  difficult  bounds  of  the  sonnet.  We  should  accept 
the  limitations  of  life  with  this  noble  and  pliant  gen- 
erosity of  the  poet,  not  with  the  austere  spirit  of  the 
stoic,  wdio  plants  himself  in  hostility  to  joy,  gathers 
his  skirts  about  him  and  holds  aloof.  But  stoicism  is 
not  happiness. 

"The  reason  why  happiness  is  most  fully  within 
our  reach  is  not,"  so  says  Mr.  Archibald  Lampman, 
''for  the  season  of  youth,  but  rather  that  of  early 
middle  age.  At  this  age  we  are  in  a  position  to 
appreciate  experience,  to  digest  and  make  the  most 
of  it.  Moreover,  the  soul  is  stored  with  memories, 
a  possession  of  wdiich  few  of  us  sufficiently  avail  our- 
selves or  realize  the  value.  It  is  in  memory  that  our 
deepest  and  securest  pleasures  consist.  We  spend 
long  lives  in  the  pursuit  v^hich  we  seldom  attain, 
but  ahvays  before  us  are  the  glories  of  anticipation 
and  behind  us  the  magical  play  house  of  Memory. 
Let  us  not,  therefore,  be  exacting  with  life  nor 
demand  too  much  of  the  present  hour.  Let  us  be 
content  if  w^e  lay  up  for  ourselves  treasures  of  fruit- 
ful memory;  for  there  is  an  Alchemy  in  the 
imagination  wdiich  can  brew  pleasures  out  of  the 
most  unpromising  material  and  gleams  of  a  curious 
sunshine  w^ill  some  day  fall  even  upon  the  recollec- 
~  tion  of  our  darkest  miseries."  So  says  the  author 
just  named,  and  a  great  compensation  it  surely  is. 
y/'  ''About  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  how^  often  I  say 
to  myself,"  so  says  John  Burroughs,  "that,  consider- 
ing life  as  a  whole,  the  most  one  ought  to  expect  is 
a  kind  of  negative  happiness,  a  neutral  state;    the 


SOME    BLBMBNTS    OF    HAPPINESS  169 

absence  of  acute  or  positive  happiness."  I^eutral 
tints  make  up  the  great  back-ground  of  nature,  and 
why  not  of  Hfe?  Neutral  tints  wear  best  in  any- 
thing.    We  do  not  tire  of  them. 

To  be  consciously  and  positively  happy  all  the^l 
while — how    vain    to    expect!      We    cannot    walk     ) 
through  life  on  mountain  peaks.     Both  laughter  and     i 
tears  we  know,  but  a  safe  remove  from  both  is  the  / 
average  felicity.  ^y 

Another  thought  is  that  we  have  each  a  certainS^-^ 
capacity  for  happiness  or  unhappiness  which  is  pretty  \ 
constant.  A  thought  worthy  of  attention  is  thaf^ 
every  throb  of  pleasure  costs  something  to  the  body, 
and  that  two  throbs  cost  twice  as  much  as  one.  Of 
this,  then,  we  may  be  quite  certain,  namely,  that  a 
large  amount  of  pleasure  supposes  a  correspond- 
ingly large  expenditure  of  nerve-force.  You  have 
felt  this  after  being  greatly  amused ;  in  fact,  you  are 
tired  out.  It  is  undoubtedly  true  that,  as  time  wears 
on,  life  becomes  of  a  soberer  hue.  We  are  young 
but  once,  and  need  not  wish  to  be  young  but 
once.  There  is  the  happiness  of  youth,  there  is 
the  happiness  of  manhood,  there  is  the  happiness 
at  age,  the  latter  a  parting  glory  like  that  of  the 
setting  sun;  each  period  wearing  a  hue  peculiar  to 
itself.  One  of  the  illusions  of  life  which  is  hard  to 
shake  off  is  the  fancying  we  were  happier  in  the  past 
than  we  are  in  the  present.  The  past  has  such  power 
to  hallow  and  heighten  effects.  In  the  distance  the 
course  we  have  traveled  looks  smooth  and  inviting) 
Those  days  of  the  past  which  so  haunt  our  memory/ 
ai  e  but  a  trick  of  the  imagination,  for  they,  too,  were 
once  the  present  and  were  as  prosy  and  commonplace 
as  the  moment  now  is.  It  is  equally  a  mistake  to 
suppose  we  shall  be  happier  tomorrow  or  next  day 
than  we  are  today. 

There  is  one  element  of  happiness  that  has  ndt 
yet  been  mentioned,  that  is  activity.     The  best  thing 


170  SOMli    ULEMBXrs    OP    HAPPINESS 

for  a  stream  is  to  keep  moving.     If  it  stops,  it  stag- 
f  nates.     So  the  best  thing  for  a  man  is  that  which 
I  keeps  tlie  currents  going,  the  physical,  moral   and 
.  intellectual  currents.     Hence  the  secret  of  happiness 
Hs — something  to  do;    some  congenial  work.     Take 
away  the  occupation  of  all  men,  and  what  a  wretched 
world  this  would  be.     Half  of  it  would  commit  sui- 
cide in  no  great  length  of  time.     Few  people  realize 
how  much  of  their  happiness,  such  as  it  is,  is  depend- 
ent upon  their  work ;  upon  the  fact  that  they  are  kept 
busy. 
^     Happiness  comes  to  most  people  who  seek  her 
/  least,  and  think  least  about  her.     It  is  not  an  object 
I     to  be  sought;    it  is  a  state  to  be  induced.     It  must 
\_follow,  and  not  lead.     Blessed  is  the  man  who  has 
some  congenial  work,  some  occupation  in  which  he 
can  put  his  heart,  and  which  affords  a  complete  out- 
let to  all  the  forces  there  are  in  him.     A  man  does 
not  want  much  time  to  think  about  himself.     Too 
much  thought  of  the  past  and   its  shadows   over- 
whelm ;   too  much  thought  of  the  present  dissipates ; 
too  much  thought  of  the  future  unsettles. 

"I  recently  had  a  letter,"  says  Mr.  Burroughs, 
*'from  a  friend  who  writes  how  w^ell  and  happy  he 
has  been  during  the  season.  He  had  enjoyed  exist- 
ence, the  gods  had  smiled  upon  him,  and  he  had 
found  life  worth  living.  Then  he  told  me,  as  a 
matter  of  news,  that  his  head  man  had  been  disabled 
two  months  before,  and  the  care  of  the  farm  had 
devolved  upon  himself;  more,  that  he  was  renovat- 
ing a  place  he  had  recently  bought,  re-modeling  the 
house,  shaping  the  grounds,  etc.  Then  I  knew  why 
he  had  been  so  unusually  well  and  happy :  He  had 
something  to  do,  into  which  he  could  throw  himself, 
and  it  had  set  all  the  currents  of  his  being  going 
again. 

''About  the  same  time  I  had  another  letter  from 
another  farmer  friend  who  told  me  how  busv  he 


SOME    ELEMENTS    OF    HAPPINESS  171 

was.  And  yet  he  was  so  happy!  Troubles  and 
trials,'  he  says,  'are  few  and  soon  over  with,  while 
the  pleasures  are  past  enumeration.'  This  man  was 
too  busy  to  be  unhappy;  he  had  no  time  for  the 
blues. 

'T  overheard  an  old  man  and  a  young  man  talk- 
ing at  a  station,"  says  he.  "The  young  man  was 
telling  of  an  old  uncle  of  his  who  had  sold  his  farm 
and  retired  into  the  village.  He  had  enjoyed  going 
to  the  village,  so  now  he  thought  he  would  take  his 
fill  of  it.  But  it  soon  cloyed  upon  him.  He  had 
nothing  to  do.  Every  night  he  would  say,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  'Well,  another  day  is  through,"  and 
each  morning  wondered  how  he  could  endure  the 
day." 

Oh,  the  blessedness  of  work,  of  life-giving  andi 
life-sustaining  work.     The  busy  man  is  the  happy 
man;    the  idle  man  is  the  unhappy.        When  you 
feel  blue  and  empty  and  disconsolate,  and  life  goes 
wrong,  go  to  work  with  your  minds  or  hands. 

"j\Ian  does  not  love  work,"  so  says  Ferrero. 
'The  distaste  which  savages,  and  primitive  peoples 
generally,  show  for  work  proves  this.  Evil  men 
entrench  behind  idleness.  Yet  to  have  food  you 
must  toil.  To  have  learning  you  must  study,  and 
study  is  a  form  of  work.  To  have  pleasure  you 
must  w^ork.  In  fact,  it  is  the  busy  man  who  really 
enjoys  pleasure,  and  the  cultivation  of  a  love  of 
work  is  one  of  the  greatest  conquests  of  civilized 
man. 

There  is  but  one  other  element  of  happiness  I 
will  refer  to  on  this  occasion,  and  that  is  health.  I 
will  not  dwell  upon  it  now.  In  the  long  run, 
and  to  a  great  majority  of  men,  h^aittJ-is^Jgrobajply 
the  important  one  of  all  the  elenieuis-of- happii^essT- 
Acufe~ptiysTi!3l~'suttering  or  shattered  health  will 
more  than  counterbalance  the  best  gifts  of  fortune. 
If  it  be  true  that  "ahealthy  mind  in  a  healthy  body" 


172  SOME    ELEMENTS    OF    HAPPINESS 

is  the  supreme  condition  of  happiness,  it  is  also  true 
that  the  healthy  mind  depends  more  closely  than  we 
like  to  own  on  the  healthy  body.  To  raise  the  level 
of  national  health  is  one  of  the  surest  ways  of  rais- 
ing the  level  of  national  happiness,  and  in  estimat- 
ing the  value  of  different  pleasures,  many  which, 
considered  in  themselves,  might  appear  to  rank  low 
upon  the  scale,  will  rank  high  if,  in  addition  to  the 
immediate  and  transient  enjoyment  they  procure, 
they  contribute  to  form  a  strong  and  healthy  body. 
No  branch  of  legislation  is  really  more  valuable 
than  that  which  is  occupied  with  the  health  of  the 
people.  Moderation  in  all  things,  an  abundance  oT^, 
exercise,  of  fresh  air,  and  of  cold  w^ater,  a  suffi-  ! 
ciency  of  steady  work  not  carried  to  excess,  are  the 
cardinal  rules  to  be  observed  in  leading  to  a  life  of 
,  happiness. 


\ 


The  Pursuit  of  Happiness 

As  all  are  in  search  of  happiness,  and  none  want 
to  be  unhappy,  I  think  my  subject  will  be  appre- 
ciated. Although  I  may  talk  to  you  about  happi- 
ness, I  may  not  succeed  in  increasing  yours,  at  the 
same  time  pointing  out  the  direction  in  which  it  lies 
may  indicate  to  some  extent  the  means  that  lead 
thereto.  Although  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that 
happiness  is  most  frequently  found  when  it  is  not" 
made  an  object  of  direct  pursuit,  as  in  self-improve- 
ment, speaking  the  truth  and  acting  honestly 
wherein  happiness  lies,  although  it  is  not  made  a 
direct  end. 

As  many  of  the  ideas  found  in  this  paper  have 
been  extracted  from  the  writings  of  Herbert 
Spencer,  I  wish  to  acknowledge  my  obligation  to 
him  once  for  all. 

"To  get  into  the  merits  of  the  subject,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  divide  happiness  into  two  kinds :  One  effects 
ourselves,  which  we  will  call  egoistic-:^^  the  second 


effects  others,  and  we  will  call  it  altniistjc.  As  I 
shall  use  these  terms  frequently,  it  will  be  well  to 
keep  their  references  well  in  mind.  One  refers  to 
seli_or personal  happiness,  the  second  to  the  happi- 
njeas_olx)thers.  ~ 

Now,  it  is  important  to  determine  which  of  these 
should  take  precedence.  To  show  this  it  is  neces- 
sary to  show  that  happiness  depends,  to  a  much 
greater  extent  than  is  generally  believed,  upon 
bodily  health. 

Never,  until  this  truth  is  fully  realized,  will  the 

173 


17-4  run    PURSUIT     OF    HAPPINESS 

happiness  of  the  world  be  greatly  increased.  When- 
ever people  learn  to  consider  the  amount  of  unhap- 
piness  caused  by  ill  health,  they  will  avoid  it  on  this 
account.  If  more  attention  were  given  to  the  body, 
its  comfort  and  well  being,  there  would  be  much  less 
unhappiness  in  the  world,  less  pain  and  suffering. 
When  all  the  organs  of  the  body  are  in  good  work- 
ing order,  there  is  a  feeling  of  well  being  which  is 
very  agreeable.  We  feel  happy  and  don't  know 
why.  Without  this  feeling  there  can  be  no  great 
enjoyment,  with  it  there  may  be  great  comfort  with 
but  little  co-operation  of  the  mind  properly  so  called. 

A  point  of  great  importance  is  that  pleasurable 
feelings  promote  the  health  of  body,  and  vice  versa. 
Painful  feelings  are  detrimental  to  the  body;  pleas- 
ures, both  great  and  small,  are  stimulants  to  the 
processes  by  which  life  is  maintained.  Light  arouses 
the  circulation  of  blood  in  the  brain  and  fresh  air 
invigorates  the  whole  body.  Sunshine  is  enlivening 
in  comparison  with  gloom,  and  experiments  have 
shown  that  sunshine  raises  the  rate  of  respiration; 
raised  respiration  being  an  index  of  raised  vital 
activities  in  general.  A  warmth  that  is  agreeable 
in  degree  favors  the  heart's  action,  and  furthers  the 
various  functions  to  which  this  is  instrumental. 
From  which  it  would  seem  that  happiness  depends 
to  a  greater  extent  upon  climatic  influences  than  is 
generally  supposed. 

Agreeable  sensations  accompany  muscular  and 
mental  action  after  due  rest,  and  that  agreeable  sen- 
sations are  caused  by  rest  after  exertion  cannot  be 
questioned.  Receipt  of  these  pleasures  conduces  to 
the  maintenance  of  the  body  in  fit  condition  for  all 
the  purposes  of  life. 

More  manifest  still  are  the  physiological  benefits 
of  emotional  pleasures.  Every  power,  bodily  and 
mental,  is  increased  by  good  spirits.  Invalids,  espe- 
cially,   show    the   benefits    derived    from    agreeable 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    HAPPINESS  175 

states  of  feeling.     In  brief,  as  every  medical  man 
knows,  there  is  no  such  tonic  as  happiness. 

On  the  other  hand,  bodily  agony  long  borne 
produces  death  by  exhaustion.  More  frequently, 
arresting  the  action  of  the  heart  for  a  time,  it  causes 
that  temporary  death  we  call  fainting. 

Xo  less  conspicuous  ^axe_  the  depressing  .effect&__ 
of  emotional  jpains.  Often  a  piece  of  bad  news  is 
succeetied  by  sickness,  and  continued  anxiety  will 
produce  loss  of  appetite  and  diminished  strength. 
While,  therefore,  craving  or  negative  pain  accom- 
panies the  under-activity  of  an  organ,  and  while 
positive  pain  accompanies  its  over-activity,  pleasure 
accompanies  its  normal  activity.  In  illustration  of 
the  effects  of  under-activity,  I  will  state  that  unless 
a  man  wdio  is  in  the  habit  of  busying  his  mind  has 
some  subject  to  dwell  on,  he  is  not  happy. 

And,  further,  it  has  been  claimed  that  grief  from 
the  loss  of  a  dear  friend  is  due  to  the  absence  of  the 
activity  of  the  affections  that  were  wont  to  be  lav- 
ished on  that  friend. 

In  further  illustration  of  the  importance  of  the 
body  in  considering  happiness,  I  will  state  that  while 
forcing  one  to  remain  inactive  after  due  rest  is  a 
punishment,  there  is  nothing  equal  as  a  remedy 
for  low  spirits  as  an  abundance  of  bodily  exercise, 
showing  that  happiness  depends  greatly  on  small 
matters. 

The  delights  of  bodily  movements  are  seen 
in  the  skipping  of  lambs,  the  prancing  of  colts  and 
the  play  of  dogs. 

Given  a  healthy  body  and  mind,  with  induce- 
ments for  action  and  opportunities  for  rest,  and  you 
have  not  only  the  elements  but  the  bread  and  butter 
of  a  happy  existence. 

We  are  now  better  prepared  to  consider  which 
should  come  first — our  own  happiness  or  that  of 
others. 


176  THE    PURSUIT    OF    HAPPINESS 

Of  self-evident  truths,  the  one  which  here  con- 
cerns us  is  that  a  creature  must  live  before  it  can 
act.  From  this  it  is  a  corollary  that  acts  by  which 
each  maintains  his  own  life  must  precede  in  im- 
perativeness all  other  acts  of  which  he  is  capable. 
For  if  it  be  asserted  that  those  other  acts  must  pre- 
cede in  imperativeness  acts  which  maintain  life, 
then,  by  postponing  the  acts  which  maintain  life  to 
the  acts  which  life  makes  possible,  all  must  lose 
their  lives,  if  it  is  accepted  as  a  general  law.  To 
place  altruism  before  egoism  is,  therefore,  suicidal, 
whereas  self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature. 
Unless  each  duly  cares  for  himself,  his  care  for  all 
others  is  ended  by  death,  and  if  each  thus  dies,  there 
remain  no  others  to  be  cared  for. 

The  conclusion  forced  upon  us  is  that  the  pursuit 
of  individual  happiness  is  the  first  requisite  to  the 
attainment  of  the  greatest  general  happiness.  To 
see  this,  it  needs  but  to  contrast  one  wdiose  self- 
regard  has  maintained  bodily  well  being  with  one 
whose  regardlessness  of  self  has  brought  its  natural 
results.  He  who  carries  self-regard  far  enough  to 
keep  himself  in  good  health  and  high  spirits  in  the 
first  place  becomes  an  immediate  source  of  happi- 
ness to  those  around,  and  in  the  second  place  main- 
tains the  ability  to  increase  their  happiness  by  altru- 
istic actions. 

In  one  further  way.  is  the  undue  subordination 
of  egoism  to  altruism  injurious.  That  one  man 
may  yield  up  to  another  a  gratification,  it  is  needful 
that  the  other  shall  accept  it.  Acceptance  implies  a 
readiness  to  get  gratification  at  another's  cost. 
Every  one  can  call  to  mind  circles  in  which  the  daily 
surrender  of  benefits  by  the  generous  to  the  greedy 
has  caused  increase  of  greediness  until  there  has 
been  produced  an  unscrupulous  selfishness  intoler- 
able to  all  around.     That  egoism  preceeds  altruism 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    HAPPINESS  177 

in  order  of  imperativeness,  we  think,  is  thus  clearly 
shown. 

Although  the  above  conclusion  is  at  variance 
wath  the  nominally  accepted  belief,  it  is  not  at  vari- 
ance with  actually  accepted  belief.  It  is  in  harmony 
with  the  doctrine  which  men  do  act  upon.  Every 
one,  by  deed  and  word,  implies  that  in  the  business 
of  life  personal  welfare  is  the  primary  consideration. 
As  self-evident  as  this  seems  to  be,  it  is  strange  that 
any  one  should  contend  for  the  opposite. 

If  we  define  altruism  as  being  all  actions  which, 
in  the  nominal  course  of  things,  benefits  others 
instead  of  benefiting  self,  then  from  the  dawn  of  life 
it  has  been  no  less  essential  than  egoism.  Under 
altruism,  I  take  the  acts  by  which  offspring  are  pre- 
served and  the  species  maintained.  And  yet  this  is 
not  a  fair  specimen  of  altruistic  acts,  as  the  off- 
spring is  a  part  of  the  parent. 

The  imperativeness  of  altruism  is,  indeed,  no 
less  than  the  imperativeness  of  egoism,  as  far  as  the 
race  is  concerned.  For  while,  on  the  one  hand,  a 
falling  short  of  normal  egoistic  acts  entails  enfeeble- 
ment  or  loss  of  life,  on  the  other  hand,  such  defects 
of  altruistic  acts  as  cause  death  of  offspring  involves 
disappearance  from  future  generations  of  the  nature 
that  is  not  altruistic  enough. 

There  has  been  a  slow  advance  from  the  altruism 
of  the  family  to  social  altruism,  which  prepares  us 
to  consider  the  several  ways  in  which  personal  wel- 
fare depends  on  due  regard  for  the  welfare  of 
others. 

First  to  be  dealt  with  comes  that  negative  altru- 
ism implied  by  such  curbing  of  the  egoistic  impulses 
as  prevents  direct  aggression.  Each  profits  egoistic- 
ally  from  the  growth  of  an  altruism  which  leads 
each  to  aid  in  preventing  the  violence  of  others. 

The  like  holds  when  we  pass  to  that  altruism 
which  retains   the  undue  egoism  displayed   in   the 


178  run    PURSUIT    OF    HAPPINESS 

breaches  of  contract.  Here  eacli  is  personally  inter- 
ested in  securing  good  treatment  of  his  fellows  by 
one  another. 

There  is  another  way  in  which  personal  welfare 
depends  upon  making  certain  sacrifices  for  social 
welfare.  The  man  who  expends  his  energies  wholly 
on  private  affairs,  pluming  himself  on  his  wisdom 
in  minding  his  own  business  is  blind  to  the  fact  that 
his  own  business  is  made  possible  only  by  a  healthy 
social  state,  and  that  he  loses  all  round  by  defective 
governmental  arrangements. 

But  there  are  ways  other  than  those  mentioned 
in  which  altruism  manifests  itself.  For  instance,  by 
giving  material  aid.  This  mode  of  charity  requires 
care,  lest  more  harm  than  good  results.  The  prac- 
tice of  benevolence,  however,  is  harmless.  The 
speaking  of  a  good  word  or  word  of  warning  or  of 
encouragement  often  is  of  great  service,  and  occa- 
sions great  comfort. 

The  case  on  behalf  of  egoism  and  the  case  on 
behalf  of  altruism  have  been  stated,  and  they  seem 
to  conflict.  If  the  maxim,  live  for  self,  is  wrong,  so 
also  is  the  maxim,  live  for  others.  We  will  take  the 
last.  This  necessarily  leads  us  to  an  examination  of 
the  greatest  happiness  principle,  that  is,  that  general 
happiness  ought  to  be  the  object  of  pursuit,  which 
identifies  it  with  pure  altruism.  Mr.  Mills,  the 
great  exponent  of  this  doctrine,  says  "everybody  to 
count  for  one,  nobody  to  count  for  more  than  one," 
which  brings  about  the  idea  of  distribution.  The 
idea  is  that  the  greatest  happiness  should  be  the  end 
sought,  and  that  in  appropriating  it  everybody 
should  count  for  one  and  nobody  for  more  than 
one.  This  implies  that  happiness  is  something  that 
can  be  cut  up  into  parts  and  handed  round,  which 
is  an  impossibility. 

The  utilitarian  principle  of  general  happiness,  or 
the  happiness  of  the  greatest  number,  involves  the 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    HAPPINESS  179 

belief  that  it  is  possible  for  happiness  to  be  trans- 
ferred. 

The  proposition  taken  for  granted  is  that  happi- 
ness in  general  admits  of  detachment  from  one  and 
attachment  to  another.  But  a  moment's  thought 
shows  this  is  far  from  the  truth,  for  the  reason 
that  much  of  the  happiness  each  enjoys  is  self- 
generated,  and  can  neither  be  given  nor  received. 

We  have  seen  that  pleasure  accompanies  normal 
amounts  of  function  or  exercise,  while  pains  accom- 
pany defects  or  excess  of  exercise.  Hence,  to  yield 
up  normal  pleasures  is  to  yield  up  so  much  life.  If 
he  is  to  continue  living,  the  individual  must  neces- 
sarily take  certain  amounts  of  those  pleasures  which 
go  along  with  fulfilment  of  the  bodily  functions, 
and  must  avoid  the  pains  which  non-fulfilment  of 
them  entails.     Complete  abnegation  means  death. 

When,  therefore,  we  attempt  to  specialize  the 
proposal  to  live  not  for  self-satisfaction,  but  for 
the  satisfaction  of  others,  we  meet  with  the  difih- 
culty  that,  beyond  a  certain  limit,  this  cannot  be 
done.  In  other  words,  the  portion  of  happiness 
which  it  is  possible  for  one  to  yield  up  is  only  a 
limited  portion.  How  can  one  yield  to  another, 
and  how  can  another  appropriate  to  himself  the 
pleasures  of  one's  own  health,  or  the  pleasures  of 
one's  own  muscular  exercise,  the  pleasures  of  one's 
own  mental  efforts,  or  of  any  kind  of  efforts,  at 
our  self-improvement? 

Again,  the  pleasures  of  efficient  action — suc- 
cessful pursuit  of  ends — cannot,  by  any  process,  be 
parted  with,  and  cannot  in  any  way  be  appropriated 
by  another.  If  we  contemplate  the  various  ambi- 
tions which  play  so  large  a  part  in  life,  we  are 
reminded  that,  so  long  as  the  consciousness  of  effi- 
ciency remains  a  dominant  pleasure,  there  will 
remain  a  dominant  pleasure  which  cannot  be  pur- 
sued by  others  but  must  be  pursued  by  self. 


180  THE    PURSUIT    OP    HAPPINESS 

It  is  admitted  that  self-happiness  is,  in  a  meas- 
ure, to  be  obtained  by  furthering  the  happiness  of 
others.  May  it  not  be  true  that  conversely,  that 
general  happiness  is  to  be  obtained  by  furthering 
self-happiness?  Our  conclusion  must  be  that  gen- 
eral happiness,  worthy  as  is  the  object,  is  to  be 
achieved  mainly  through  the  adequate  pursuit  of 
their  own  happiness  by  individuals,  while  recipro- 
cally the  happiness  of  individuals  is  to  be  achieved, 
in  part,  by  their  pursuit  of  general  happiness. 

When  increasing  the  happiness  of  others 
increases  our  own  happiness,  as  is  generally  the 
case,  it  is  all  right;  but,  whatever  moralists  may 
say  to  the  contrary,  whenever  we  promote  the  happi- 
ness of  others  by  the  loss  of  our  own,  the  act,  to 
that  extent,  is  suicidal,  if  happiness,  as  is  contended, 
promotes  health  and  is  favorable  to  life. 

And  such  a  man  as  Professor  Sidgwick,  of  Har- 
vard, who  takes  a  different  view,  is  compelled  to 
confess  that  there  is  an  irreconcilible  difficulty  in 
reconciling  one's  interest  and  one's  duty.  "The 
meaning  of  the  word  duty,"  says  he,  "is  something 
good  for  others,  not  good  for  me.  And  why  should 
I  be  sacrificed  to  another  man?  Even  though  there 
is  a  motive  in  my  constitution  that  urges  me  to  self- 
sacrifice,  why  am  I  in  particular  to  be  oppressed  with 
another  man's  burdens?  Let  every  one  bear  his 
own  burden,  is  the  dictate  of  reason  and  justice." 

It  may  be  asserted  that  this  paper  tends  to  make 
men  selfish.  This  I  doubt,  as  they  are  so  by  nature. 
I  have  simply  pointed  out  some  of  the  reasons  why 
they  are  so. 

W^e  pass  to  the  consideration  of  the  effects  of 
sympathy  in  increasing  our  pleasures  and  in 
diminishing  our  pains.  Now  a  pleasurable  con- 
sciousness is  aroused  on  witnessing  pleasure;  now 
a  painful  consciousness  is  aroused  on  witnessing 
pain.     Hence,  if  beings  around  one  habitually  mani- 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    HAPPINESS  181 

fest  pleasure,  sympathy  yields  to  the  possessor  an 
increase  of  pleasure.  But  all  men  are  also  in  a 
high  degree  sensitive  or  sympathetic  to  our  pains, 
both  bodily  and  mental.  Were  it  not  so,  life  would 
be  scarcely  tolerable,  when  we  consider  the  misery 
everywhere  being  suffered  as  consequence  of  war, 
crime  and  misfortune.  If  the  life,  however,  is  such 
that  suffering  is  daily  inflicted,  or  is  daily  mani- 
fested by  associates,  sympathy  grows  only  to  a  cer- 
tain extent. 

To  assume  unlimited  growth  of  sympathy  is 
to  assume  that  the  constitution  will  modify  itself  in 
such  a  way  as  to  increase  its  pains,  and,  therefore, 
depress  its  energies;  and  it  is  to  ignore  the  truth 
that  bearing  any  kind  of  pain  gradually  produces 
insensibility  to  that  pain  or  callousness.  This  cal- 
lousness is  not  only  in  the  sufferer  but  in  beholders. 
This  is  a  wise  provision  of  nature,  for  if  the  growth 
of  sympathy  with  pain  were  unlimited,  it  would 
endanger  health  of  body  and  mind,  and  the  evils 
which  it  would  bring  would  offset  its  benefits,  so 
that  sympathy  would  not  increase  our  happiness. 

Sympathy  increases  our  happiness,  then,  by 
yielding  freely  to  pleasure,  but  only  sparingly  to 
pain. 

The  object  of  this  thesis  has  been  to  show  that^^  / 

neither  individual  nor  general  happiness  should  be    ^^^ 
the  sole  or  main  end  of  life.     It  is  not  an  object  to 
be  sought,  it  is  a  state  of  mind  to  be  induced.     It 
must  follow  and  not  lead. 

From  the  complexity  of  influences  which  bear 
upon  us,  it  is  not  probable  that  we  should  be  moved 
by  one  motive  alone.  Xow  it  is  our  happiness,  and 
now  the  happiness  of  others,  and  now  it  is  to  live  out 
our  lives  for  the  good  of  ourselves  or  that  of  others, 
Herbert  Spencer  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 

13- 


The  Effed  of  Happiness  Upon 
Charader 

All  men  seek  after  happiness,  and  it  is  as  natural 
for  them  to  do  so  as  it  is  for  sparks  to  fly  upwards, 
as  is  indicated  by  the  actions  of  the  child  at  the 
breast,  having  tasted  nourishment,  and  finding  it 
agreeable,  nurses  with  avidity  until  satisfied.  It 
behooves  us,  then,  to  inquire  into  the  effects  of 
happiness  upon  character. 

There  are  those  who  claim  that  whatever  pro- 
duces  happiness   is    right,    and    vice   versa.      This 
theory  we  will  not  stop  to  consider,  further  than  to 
say  if  happiness  is  the  main  end  of  life,  many  will 
have  to  be  content  with  a  very  small  portion. 
4x^  By  happiness  we  here  mean  external  happiness, 
wealth,  success,   fame,  health  and  victory.     What 
effect  has  the  possession  or  pursuit  of  these  things 
on  character  ? 
1         Observation  of  human  affairs  has  convinced  all 
the  more  highly  civilized  nations  of  the  one  great 
I  fundamental  truth,  that  happiness,  or  prosperity,  or 
\  good  fortune,  is  a  menace  to  character.     So  that 
unalloyed  happiness  is  not  perfect  happiness. 

Prosperity  produces  satiety,  and  only  an  unusual 
amount  of  good  sense  will  enable  a  man  to  bear  it. 
The  view  is  undoubtedly  well  founded,  that  pros- 
perity and  success  have  the  tendency  to  make  one 
self-satisfied  and  insolent.  The  prosperous  man  is 
prone  to  judge  others  harshly  and  himself  mildly. . 
His  success  he  considers  to  be  due  entirely  to  his 

182 


CHARACTER  AFFBCTBD  BY  HAPPINESS      183 

own  exertions.  He  is  ready  to  speak  uncharitably 
of  the  misfortune  or  failure  of  others,  and  to  lay 
all  the  blame  on  them.  He  has  no  respect  for  the 
strivings  of  others,  nor  sympathy  with  their  mis- 
fortunes, and  thus  arises  the  habit  of  mind  called 
insolence.  This  leads  to  the  abuse  of  the  weak  and 
vanquished;    to  a  state  of  careless  self-assurance. 

It  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  the  mere  sight  of 
sensuous  enjoyment  usually  fills  the  spectator  with 
disgust.  Thus,  for  instance,  to  w^atch  a  company 
of  people  feasting  and  drinking  is  apt  to  arouse 
feelings  of  repulsion.  We  naturally  shrink  from 
observing  the  satisfaction  and  excesses  of  sensuous 
needs. 

What  makes  the  vain  man  so  unbearable  is  the 
fact  that  he  needs  and  seeks  people  to  wliom  to 
narrate  his  deeds  and  sufferings.  Biographies 
usually  become  uninteresting  as  soon  as  the  hero 
has  overcome  all  difficulties  and  obstacles,  the  dan- 
gers and  battles,  which  separated  him  from  his  goal. 
The  years  of  rest  and  universal  recognition,  of  fame 
and  wealth,  however  well  deserved  they  may  be, 
are  passed  over  in  silence  by  the  biographer. 

"Enjoyment  is  degrading,"  says  Faust.  A  pro- 
found truth,  for  the  soul  addicted  to  pleasure  is  con- 
quered and  degraded.  The  real  secret  of  Faust's 
power  of  resistance  to  evil  was  his  failure  to  find 
satisfaction  in  pleasure. 

What  is  true  of  individuals  is  also  true  of  col- 
lective bodies,  of  nations,  classes,  parties — prosper- 
ity ruins  them.  They  lose  their  capacity  for  self- 
criticism  and  self-control;  they  lose  their  strength 
and  dignity;  they  lose  the  sense  of  what  is  proper, 
and  so  inwardly  are  ruined;  they  are  ingloriously 
defeated  by  a  despised  foe.  Nothing  in  the  world 
is  more  repulsive  than  a  company  of  well-fed  and 
self-satisfied  persons,  who  boast  of  their  fatness  and 
satiety;    nothing   is   so   apt   to   arouse   all   healthy 


184      CHARACTER  AFFiiCTED  BY  IIAFFINESS 

instincts  of  humanity  against  it;  nothing,  therefore, 
so  certain  of  destruction,  as  history  proves. 

Social  pleasures  are  so  easily  abused  that  it  is  not 
strange  that  in  all  ages  large  numbers  of  sincere 
men  and  women  have  called  them  evil.  In  the 
excitement  of  social  pleasure,  work  and  duty  may 
be  forgotten,  and  the  strength  of  character  which 
is  maintained  by  self-denying  struggle  may  be  lost. 
Nations,  such  as  the  old  Romans,  for  instance,  that 
have  surrendered  themselves  unreservedly  to  pleas- 
ure have  become  effiminate,  cruel  and  corrupt. 

Nevertheless,  nothing  is  more  unscientific  than 
to  confound  the  effects  of  excess  and  abuse  with 
those  of  normal  use.  Yet  an  enormous  number  of 
mankind  who  value  those  moral  qualities  that  may 
collectively  be  six)ken  of  as  self-restraint  or  self- 
conservation — the  power  to  be  temperate  in  all 
things,  to  resist  temptation,  to  abstain  with  rigid 
self-denial  from  modes  or  degrees  of  pleasure  that 
often  result  in  injury — is  a  trait  of  character  vastly 
admired  by  a  portion  of  mankind  and  is  chiefly 
sought  for  in  the  selection  of  companions  and  in  the 
efforts  that  are  made  to  mould  the  characters  of  the 
members  of  the  community.  This  particular  form 
of  social  valuation  is  known  in  history  as  puri- 
tanism. 

While,  therefore,  no  community  can  afford  to 
forget  that  the  cultivation  of  social  pleasure  at  the 
expense  of  sturdier  social  activities  is  a  fatal  error, 
it  cannot  more  afford  to  forget  that  social  pleasure 
under  rational  control  is  the  original  motive  to  social 
development. 

The  history  of  the  Church  also  confirms  this 
truth ;  nay,  perhaps  it  is  nowhere  so  self-evident  as 
there,  for  the  Church,  triumphant  and  dominant, 
invariably  becomes  haughty,  stubborn,  hard-hearted 
and  persecuting. 

Such  are  the  consequences  of  prosperity.     Now 


CHARACTER  AFFECTED  BY  HAPPINESS      185 

look  at  the  other  side  of  the  picture — at  the  educat- 
ing, strengthening,  purifying  effects  of  adversity, 
failure  and  suffering.  Misfortune  renders  the  will 
flexible;  the  will  that  can  bear  trouble  is  made 
elastic  and  grows  strong  under  pressure.  It  gives 
us  patience  to  bear  the  inevitable,  it  exercises  our 
ability  to  measure  and  test  ourselves  and  our  pow- 
ers; it  makes  us  modest  in  our  demands  and 
charitable  in  our  judgments  of  others'  failings. 
Prosperity  develops  the  repulsive  qualities  of  human 
nature ;  adversity  unites  men,  making  them  friendly, 
patient  and  just. 

When  a  storm  suddenly  comes  up  on  a  summer 
day,  w^e  may  see  how  the  persons  of  high  and  low 
degree,  who  avoided  and  repelled  each  other  while 
the  sun  was  shining,  now  seek  refuge  beneath  the 
same  roof,  and  bear  and  even  jest  with  each  other. 
So  it  is  when  a  great  misfortune  overtakes  a  city 
or  a  nation — it  breaks  down  all  the  barriers  of  pride 
and  hatred  which  were  erected  in  the  days  of  pros- 
perity. Finally,  the  highest  moral  perfection  is  not 
matured  without  misfortune  and  suffering. 

Misfortune  has  an  educating  influence.  "No 
human  being  can  be  trained  without  blows,"  so  says 
Menander.  And  a  Greek  poet  said:  '*Zeus  (their 
god)  leads  us  to  wisdom  and  sanctifies  the  law  that 
suffering  is  our  teacher." 

Suffering  is  punishment;  but  for  him  who 
accepts  the  punishment,  it  is  also  a  remedy  against 
that  disease  of  the  soul  which  is  caused  by  pros- 
perity— self-righteous  harshness. 

The  dying  Socrates  has  become  for  philosophers 
a  living  witness  of  the  truth  that  ''no  evil  can  befall 
man  so  long  as  he  refuses  to  regard  it  as  such." 
"How  can  that  be  an  evil,"  asks  Marcus  Aurelius, 
"that  does  not  make  me  worse?" 

Hence  we  may  say  that  real  happiness  is  a  proper 
mixture' of  so-called  happiness_^  (good  fortune)  and 


186      CHARACTER  AFFECTED  BY  HAPPINESS 

misfortune.  "A  man's  lot  is  not  happy  wlicn  all 
his  desires  are  always  and  fully  realized,  but  when 
he  obtains  a  proper  share  of  joy  and  sorrow,  success 
and  failure,  plenty  and  want,  struggle  and  peace, 
work  and  rest,  and  obtains  it  at  the  right  time."  Just 
as  the  plant  needs  sunshine  and  rain  in  order  to 
thrive,  so  the  inner  man  cannot  prosper  without 
both  cheerful  and  gloomy  days. 

If  everything  went  against  him,  if  he  experi- 
enced nothing  but  trouble,  he  would,  necessarily 
turn  from  the  world  and  life  with  horror. 

Nor  could  a  man  call  himself  happy  if  his  wishes 
were  realized  as  soon  as  they  rose  in  his  soul.  He 
would  miss  some  very  important  human  experi- 
ences; he  would  not  bring  out  some  quite  essential 
phases  of  human  nature.  Just  as  a  general  who  has 
never  met  with  defeat  would  remain  ignorant  of  all 
the  resources  of  his  mind  and  be  unable  to  unfold 
them,  so  a  man  wdio  has  never  wanted  for  anything 
and  has  never  failed  in  anything  would  not  be  able 
to  develop  all  the  powers  of  his  mind  and  will.  He 
would  feel  that  fate  had  withheld  from  him  some- 
thing essential  to  the  perfection  of  his  being,  and 
he  would,  perhaps,  like  Polycrates,  feel  terrified  at 
his  happiness. 

And  so  we  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  life,  as 
we  find  it,  is,  on  the  whole,  adapted  to  the  real  needs 
of  human  nature — it  brings  to  every  one  good  and 
evil_  days,  success  and  trials. 

W^e  are  reminded  of  the  thoughtful  poem  of 
Chamisso :  A  man,  complaining  of  the  heaviness 
of  his  cross,  is  taken  to  a  large  hall,  where  the 
crosses  of  all  human  beings  are  stored.  He  is 
allowed  to  choose  a  new  one  for  himself.  He  lays 
down  his  own  and  begins  to  look  around  for  a  suit- 
able one.  After  a  careful  and  deliberate  search,  he 
finally  finds  a  cross  that  seems  most  satisfactory  to 
him.    Upon  examining  it  more  closely,  he  discovers 


CHARACTER  AFFECTED  BY  HAPPINESS      187 

that  it  is  his  own  cross  which  he  had  for  the  moment 
failed  to  recognize. 

There  are  people  who  would  show  us  a  better 
world  than  our  real  world,  and,  therefore,  denounce 
the  real  world  as  a  failure.  If  they  were  allowed 
their  imaginary  world  and  were  to  live  in  it,  they 
would  perhaps  discover  that  the  conditions  are  far 
more  satisfactory  in  our  despised  world. 

If  our  pessimists  could  be  transported  to  another 
planet  for  a  short  period,  they  would  perhaps  learn 
to  think  of  the  earth  with  longing  and  gratitude. 

I  close  with  a  quotation  from  the  life  of  Hum- 
bolt  : 

''We,  too,  have  not  been  resting  on  a  bed  of 
roses ;  but  our  hearts  are  strong  in  patience  and  full 
of  energetic  action.  Pain  is  not  a  misfortune^  pleas- 
ure not  always  a  blessing;  whoever  fulfills  his 
destiny  suffers  both.'' 

And  iii_fulfil ling  that  destiny,  it  is  advisable. to 
hCj  not  overthoughtful  of  or  too  sensitive  to  either. 

In  the  preparation  of  this  paper,  I  wish  to 
acknowledge  my  obligations  for  help  to  Professor 
Paulsen,  of  the  University  of  Berlin. 


The  World  We  Live  In 

If  it  be  true  that  man  has  come  up  from  a  lowly 
organized  creature,  that  fact  shows  that  the  earth 
was  adapted  for  that  puurpose,  viz. :  developing  that 
creature  into  man,  else  he  never  would  have 
appeared.  But  what  sort  of  an  arena  is  it,  for  the 
development  of  man,  after  he  comes  upon  the  stage 
as  man?  Is  it  adapted  to  his  further  evolution? 
We  shall  see.  The  occupations  of  man  for  ages 
were  so  simple,  such  as  procuring  food  and  cook- 
ing it,  providing  shelter,  garments  and  tools,  his 
progress  was  very  slow,  as  is  shown  by  the  ages 
which  intervened  from  the  time  he  learned  to  chip 
stone  before  he  learned  to  grind  or  polish  it. 

Human  development  is  based  upon  the  possibility 
of  a  natural  and  harmonious  satisfaction  of  the 
instincts.  One  of  the  most  important  instincts  is 
usually  not  even  recognized  as  such — the  instinct  of 
workmanship.  Lawyers,  criminologists  and  philos- 
ophers frequently  imagine  that  only  want  makes 
men  work.  This  is  an  erroneous  view.  We  are 
instinctively  forced  to  be  active  in  the  same  way  as 
ants  or  bees.  The  instinct  of  workmanship  would 
be  the  greatest  source  of  development  were  it  not  for 
the  fact  that  our  present  social  and  economic  organ- 
ization allows  only  a  few  to  satisfy  this  instinct. 
Robert  Meyer  has  pointed  out  that  any  successful 
display  or  setting  free  of  energy  is  a  source  of  pleas- 
ure to  us.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  satisfaction  of 
the  instinct  of  workmanship  is  of  such  importance 
in  the  economy  of  life,  for  the  play  and  learning  of 

188 


THE     WORLD     WE    LIVE    IN  189 

the  child,  as  well  as  for  the  scientific  or  commercial 
work  of  the  man. 

Irrespective  of  wants  and  the  efforts  to  gratify 
them,  agreeable  sensations  accompany  muscular 
exercise.  It  is  necessary  to  promote  a  free  flow  of 
blood  and  the  nutrition  and  development  of  the 
body.  Given  a  healthy  body  with  inducements  for 
action  and  opportunities  for  rest  and  you  have  the 
elements  of  a  happy  existence.  The  spontaneous 
tendency  of  our  bodies  to  action  is  accountable  to  a 
great  degree  for  our  muscular  development. 

Then  there  is  the  additional  element  of  want. 
Man  has  learned  that  the  earth  does  not  supply  him 
with  a  sufficiency  of  spontaneous  food  and  clothing. 
He  must  work.  The  necessity  for  this  is  early 
apparent.  This  is  not  only  necessary  to  life,  but  is 
a  benefit  beside.  A  benefit  to  his  physical  being — it 
gives  exercise  to  his  frame  and  development  to  mus- 
cles, and  stimulus  to  his  mind.  W^ithout  these  things, 
he  would  be  a  poor  dwarf. 

"If  the  earth  yielded  harvests  of  its  own  accord, 
if  the  forests  produced  an  abundance  of  all  fruits, 
there  would  be  no  agriculture.  If  the  climate  were 
always  absolutely  suited  to  the  comforts  of  man- 
kind, there  would  be  no  need  of  houses.  If  tools  of 
all  kinds  grew^  upon  trees,  or  shoes  fell  from  heaven 
once  a  year,  we  should  have  no  wants;  we  should 
need  no  trades ;  we  should  be  living  in  a  state  of  ideal 
perfection." 

What  distinguishes  our  world  from  such  a 
dreamland  is  the  obstacles  and  the  labor  made  neces- 
sary by  them.  Now,  no  one  can  doubt  that  our  own 
world  is  more  adapted  to  our  natures,  constituted  as 
they  are,  than  such  an  ideal  world. 

The  work  that  is  necessary  to  gratify  the  wants 
of  man  affords  him  necessary  occupation.  With 
most  men,  by  the  time  his  wants  are  satisfied  and  the 
wants  of  his  family,  and  a  little  something  is  laid 


liK)  THE    WORLD    IVU    LlVli    IN 

aside  for  a  rainy  day,  there  is  not  much  time  left 
for  other  things,  except  to  rest  for  another  day. 
And  so  it  goes  with  most  men,  day  in  and  day  out, 
until  death  closes  the  scene.  In  the  meantime,  the 
only  comfort  he  knows  is  that  of  developing  himself 
and  of  rearing  a  family. 

Then  there  are  the  educating  influences  of  his 
labor.  The  making  of  a  hut,  the  stitching  together 
of  a  garment,  the  cooking  of  his  food,  and  making 
tools,  all  have  a  developing  effect  upon  the  mind. 

And  then  the  thought  of  ownership  is  developed. 
The  sense  of  ownership  begins  away  back  in  life. 
In  the  second  year  of  life  the  child  begins  to  say 
my,  and  manifests  the  importance  of  this  word.  The 
savage  learns  it  in  a  measure  by  experience.  He 
learns  that  by  eating  up  all  the  food  there  is  on 
hand  when  food  is  scarce,  he  may  be  forced  to  suffer 
the  pains  of  hunger  for  days  together.  He  learns 
slowly  the  importance  of  deferring  one  enjoyment 
that  a  greater  one  may  be  held  in  store  for  the 
future.  He  finds  in  the  struggle  for  life  it  stands 
him  in  hand  to  look  ahead  and  accumulate  some- 
thing. 

This  desire  for  accumulating  something  is  one 
of  the  elements  of  our  nature,  and  plays  an  imiport- 
ant  role  in  the  world.  It  fosters  self-control,  for 
instance.  Were  it  not  for  the  love  of  ovvnership, 
there  would  be  danger  of  anarchy  instead  of  law 
and  order.  Were  it  not  for  the  strong  hope  of  own- 
ing something,  which  exists  in  the  bosom  of  man, 
however  it  came  there,  and  were  it  not  for  the 
knowledge  that  behavior  and  good  government 
favored  the  stability  of  property  rights,  many  men 
would  turn  themselves  loose  as  agents  of  destruc- 
tion. 

The  idea  that  we  can  help  to  improve  the  world, 
that  is,  make  it  a  better  place  for  man  to  live  in,  is 
an  important  idea,  and  opens  up  a  new  channel  for 


THB    WORLD    WB    LIVE    IN  191 

thought  and  labor.  The  earth  as  God  left  it  and  as 
man  has  added  to  it  are  two  different  things.  Who- 
ever has  cleared  a  patch  of  ground,  tilled  a  field, 
made  a  road,  built  a  house,  planted  a  tree,  or  sowed 
out  a  lawn,  has  done  something  to  beautify  the 
planet,  making  it  more  attractive. 

But  is  the  earth  adapted  for  the  development  of 
man's  moral  nature?  Does  not  the  existence  of 
moral  evil  in  the  world  interfere  with  the  develop- 
ment of  his  moral  nature?  Could  not  and  should 
not  moral  evil  have  been  eliminated  or  left  out?  ''I 
believe,"  so  says  Professor  Paulsen,  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Berlin,  ''that  we  must  answer  the  question 
in  the  negative."  Erroneously  though  it  may  sound, 
moral  evil,  too,  is  in  a  certain  sense  necessary.  If 
it  were  wholly  eliminated,  human  life  would  lack 
an  indispensable  element.  It  may  be  shown  that 
life  demands  the  very  conditions  under  which  it 
actually  exists.  Take  away  all  evils,  and  you  abolish 
life  itself.  Evil  remains  evil  none  the  less,  but  it 
is  not  a  thing  that  ought  absolutely,  not  to  be.  It 
must  be,  not  for  its  own  sake,  however,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  good.  We  cannot  conceive  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  exterminating  evil  without  at  the  same 
time  striking  at  the  good. 

But  not  only  is  the  potential  evil  in  our  own 
nature  an  indispensible  means  of  realizing  the  good, 
but  the  actual  evil  outside  of  us  is  the  same;  in 
battling  against  it,  virtue  grows  strong;  injustice 
arouses  in  the  spectator  or  victim  the  idea  of  the 
right  and  the  sense  of  justice;  falsehood  and  deceit 
make  truth  and  veracity  valuable ;  in  short,  we  first 
become  conscious  of  the  true  worth  of  goodness 
through  evil. 

All  the  great  heroes  of  humanity  became  what 
they  were  only  by  struggling  with  evil. 

Hence,  if  we  eliminate  all  evil  from  history,  we 
at  the  same  time  eliminate  the  conflict  of  the  good 


luii  run   world   wl  uru  in 

with  evil  and  lose  the  highest  and  grandest  posses- 
sion of  humanity — moral  heroism.  Hence,  good- 
ness can  thri\e  and  grow  strong  upon  earth  only  in 
the  struggle  for  existence  with  evil.  We  cannot 
e\'en  imagine  a  history  without  such  opposites.  But 
shall  we,  in  acknowledging  the  necessity  of  evil,  also 
recognize  it  as  one  of  the  legitimate  constituents  of 
reality,  equal  in  value  to  the  rest.  That  is  not  my 
meaning.  The  evil  has  no  value  whatever  as  such, 
and  no  claim  to  existence.  It  exists  only  for  the 
sake  of  the  good,  to  enable  it  to  act  and  realize  itself. 
It  is  a  negative  quantity,  valueless  as  such;  it 
receives  a  kind  of  power  and  reality  only  through  its 
opposite — the  good.  But  the  point  comes  up,  can 
that  which  is  evil  be  made  to  promote  good  without 
itself  becoming  good?  We  answer,  yes.  There  is 
murder,  for  instance,  which  is  always,  and  under  all 
circumstances,  evil,  and  yet  the  state  makes  use  of 
it  to  prevent  other  murders,  which  does  not  make  it 
good. 

The  impulse  to  combat  evil  does  not  spring  from 
a  conception  of  a  perfect  state  to  be  realized  by  the 
conflict,  but  from  the  feeling  aroused  by  the  pressure 
of  the  particular  evil  at  hand. 

The  general  belief,  that  the  satisfaction  of  every 
need,  the  removal  of  every  evil  will  invariably  be 
followed  by  new  ones,  will  neither  hinder  action  nor 
weaken  its  effects.  Even  if  we  should  be  convinced 
that  want  and  misery,  injustice  and  falsehood  will 
exist,  world  without  end,  w^e  shall  not  cease  com- 
bating them  wherever  they  show  themselves.  And 
this  is  as  it  should  be;  the  struggle  can  never  be 
absolutely  ineffectual.  One  result  is  bound  to  fol- 
low under  all  circumstances :  Our  antagonism 
places  us  in  the  ranks  of  those  who  are  fighting  for 
the  good  and  right. 

The  immediate  and  real  purpose  of  every  human 
being  is  not  to  obtain  happiness  for  the  human  race. 


THE    WORLD     WE    LIVE    IN  193 

but  to  live  his  own  life  worthily,  and  this  end  he  can 
realize  under  all  conditions.  The  important  thing 
to  the  man  of  action  is  that  he  do  the  right.  Who- 
ever meekly  succumbs  to  evil  as  to  something  that 
cannot  be  overcome  will  surely  be  overcome  by  it ; 
inaction  is  followed  by  discouragement  and  weari- 
ness. So  soon,  however,  as  a  man  begins  to  defend 
himself,  he  becomes  conscious  of  his  own  activity 
and  strength,  and  feels  that  the  evil  which  he  is 
attacking  recedes.  The  satisfaction  thus  experienced 
by  him  is  not  destroyed  by  the  thought  that  another 
evil  may  take  the  place  of  the  vanquished  one. 

The  proper  use,  therefore,  which  we  should 
make  of  evil  and  w^ickedness  is  this :  We  should 
antagonize  it  honestly  and  energetically  and  make 
it  a  means  of  our  ow^n  perfection,  and  so  far  as  we 
can  of  that  of  others. 

We  do  not  say  these  considerations  are  a  suffi- 
cient justification  for  the  existence  of  evil,  but  that 
they  should  mitigate  the  harshness  of  our  criticisms 
of  the  author  of  it,  for  the  reason  that  the  wdiole  of 
it,  for  aught  we  know,  was  a  necessity.  Anyway, 
without  obstacles  to  call  forth  muscular  exertion,  in 
strength,  we  w^ould  be  babes;  without  ignorance, 
requiring  mental  efforts,  we  would  be  imbeciles,  and 
without  the  bad  to  combat,  in  moral  character,  we 
would  be  dwarfs.  Evil,  then,  is  a  reform  school  for 
the  development  of  our  powers. 

Paulsen,  in  making  an  attempt  to  justify  the  evil 
in  the  world  says :  "Of  course,  we  cannot  prove 
that  the  world  as  it  exists  is  absolutely  good,  or  even 
that  it  is  the  best  of  possible  worlds;  but  we  can 
endeavor  to  say  what  it  is  for  us."  And  it  may,  in 
my  opinion,  be  shown  that  the  universe,  as  it  is,  is 
essentially  adapted  to  our  natures.  The  world  has 
developed  us,  therefore  it  is  adapted  to  us  and  we 
to  it;    if  not,  we  would  not  survive. 

According  to  scientists,  it  has  been  a  long  time 


194  THE     WORLD     WE    LIVE    IN 

at  it — millions  of  years — so  say  scientists  and  so  say 
many  theologians,  and  if  there  be  anything  in  our 
adjustment  of  ourselves  to  our  surroundings,  by  this 
time  we  ought  to  be  thoroughly  adjusted  to  them, 
and  especially  since,  according  to  evolutionists,  we 
have  been  undergoing  this  adjustment  from  the  low- 
est forms  of  life.  The  earth  has  undergone  a  great 
many  changes,  rendering  it  more  and  more  habit- 
able, and  so  has  man.  These  changes  in  man  have 
been  in  conforming,  moulding  and  modifyinp-  him- 
self to  suit  the  earth.  These  have  been  going  on  for 
ages,  and  have  been  transmitted  to  us  by  inheritance. 
We  can  hardly  conceive  the  condition  of  man  if 
these  changes  were  left  out.  These  changes  include 
the  works  of  man  himself,  such  as  inventions  and 
manufactures,  and  his  changes  of  mind  and  morals 
so  as  to  adapt  himself  better  to  the  conditions  of 
earth.  Acquiring  these  modifications  through  inheri- 
tance, we  are  indebted  not  only  to  the  Creator 
but  to  our  fellow  men  for  ages  back,  and  it  is  a 
question,  on  the  whole,  whether  a  more  suitable 
world  were  possible.  If  we  could  only  realize  this 
fact,  instead  of  trying  to  find  some  one  to  blame, 
when  fortune  does  not  use  us  kindly,  or  when  things 
seem  to  go  wrong,  contentment  would  reign  in  our 
bosoms,  and  particularly  if  we  could  realize  that 
we,  being  what  we  are,  could  have  any  use  for  or 
tolerate  a  world  differently  constituted. 


The  Problem  of  Poverty 

In  1892  a  group  of  the  most  prominent  sociolo- 
gists (fifteen  in  number)  contributed  papers  on  the 
problem  of  poverty,  of  which  this  paper  is  a  digest, 
largely  made  up  by  Rev.  Washington  Gladden,  of 
England. 

STUDIES    OF    POVERTY 

It  ought  to  be  possible  to  ascertain  pretty  accu- 
rately the  conditions  under  which  our  neighbors  of 
the  less  fortunate  classes  are  living.  Such  is  the 
conclusion  to  which  a  few  wise  men  in  this  genera- 
tion have  lately  come,  and  we  have,  as  a  result,  sev- 
eral studies  of  poverty  by  which  our  judgment  of 
this  difficult  subject  may  be  greatly  assisted. 

Mr.  Jacob  Riis  has  undertaken  to  tell  us  ''How 
the  Other  Half  Lives"  in  the  city  of  New  York.  The 
book  gives  us,  in  a  series  of  vivid  pictures,  a  good 
idea  of  the  sinking  circles  of  that  inferno,  whose 
gates  stand  open  every  day  before  the  eyes  of  the 
dwellers  in  New  York. 

Mrs.  Helen  Cambell's  ''Prisoners  of  Poverty" 
is  another  series  of  sketches  of  life  among  the  work- 
ing women  of  New  York,  by  which  much  light  is 
thrown  upon  their  dark  problem.  Certain  phases  of 
the  subject  reveal  themselves  most  clearly  to  a 
woman's  insight. 

The  Rev.  L.  A.  Banks,  in  a  number  of  popular 
discourses  delivered  in  Boston,  and  lately  published, 
has  made  rather  a  startling  picture  of  the  condition 
of  the  "white  slave"  of  the  metropolis  of  New  Eng- 
land. 

195 


196  THE    PROBLliM     Of    POVERTY 

Mr.  Charles  Booth  (who  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  the  head  of  the  Salvation  Army)  has 
entered  upon  a  work  which  affords  a  pattern  for  an 
inxestigation ;  which  work  is  entitled,  "Labor  and 
Life  of  the  People."  His  investigations  were  con- 
fined chiefiy  to  London.  He  caused  to  be  made  a 
thorough  house-to-house  and  street-to-street  investi- 
gation of  that  whole  vast  metropolitan  area ;  he  has 
gathered  his  facts  from  various  sources,  and  has 
diligently  compared  and  compiled  them ;  he  has 
given  to  the  world  a  statement,  the  fullness  and 
colorless  accuracy  of  which  must  impress  every 
intelligent  reader.  The  magnitude  of  his  undertak- 
ing can  scarce  be  imagined.  Yet  all  may  see  that 
the  work  has  been  done  w-ith  tact  and  judgment.  So 
that  philanthropists  and  legislators  may  feel  that 
they  have  sure  ground  to  go  upon.  Colored  sec- 
tional maps  accompany  his  volumes,  set  before  the 
reader  graphically  the  location  of  the  various  classes, 
revealing  to  the  eye  the  character  of  the  population 
in  every  street  and  square  of  central  London. 

Mr.  Booth  has  had  a  numerous  staff  of  helpers 
under  his  own  direction.  But  in  addition  to  these, 
he  has  been  able  to  make  use  of  the  wdiole  of  the 
School  Board  visitors.  Most  of  the  visitors  have 
been  \vorking  in  the  same  districts  for  several  years, 
and  these  have  an  extensive  knowledge  of  the  peo- 
ple. They  are  in  daily  contact  w'ith  them,  and  have 
a  very  considerable  knowledge  of  the  parents  of  the 
poor  children,  especially  of  the  poorest  among  them, 
and  of  the  conditions  under  wdiich  they  live.  No 
one  says  he  ''can  go  over  the  descriptions  as  I  have 
done  and  doubt  the  genuine  character  of  the  inform- 
ation. Beside  these,  the  Local  Government  Board, 
the  Board  of  Guardians  of  the  Poor,  the  relieving 
officers,  the  police,  the  Charity  Organization 
Society,  the  clergy,  and  the  many  bodies  of  lay 
workers  among  the  poor  have  aided  me  effectually." 


THB    PROBLEM    OF    POVBRTY  197 

Concerning  the  number  of  the  lowest  class, 
which  are  occasional  laborers,  loafers  and  semi- 
criminals,  it  is  some  relief  to  believe  that  this  dis- 
orderly and  dangerous  class  in  a  city  like  London 
constitute  only  nine-tenths  of  one  per  cent  of  the 
population — nine  persons  in  a  thousand. 

The  fact  that  thirty  persons  in  every  hundred  of 
that  vast  population  are  living  below  the  line  of 
comfort  may  well  furnish  food  for  meditation.  The 
admission  that  thirty  per  cent  of  our  neighbors  are 
in  poverty  is  one  that  none  of  us  is  willing  to  make. 

W^ould  this  be  true  of  New  York  or  Boston  ?  It 
is  impossible  to  say.  Some  of  the  experts  who  are 
thoroughly  familiar  with  the  worst  of  London  tell 
us  that  they  have  found  worse  conditions  in  some  of 
our  American  cities  than  any  they  have  seen  at  home. 
If  it  be  true,  as  all  investigations  indicate,  that  the 
greatest  poverty  is  apt  to  be  found  in  the  densest 
population,  then  the  bad  eminence  must  be  assigned 
to  New  York;  for  while  the  most  populous  acre  of 
London  holds  only  307  inhabitants,  we  have,  accord- 
ing to  the  census,  in  the  Eleventh  ward  of  New  York 
386  to  the  acre;  in  the  Thirteenth  ward,  428,  and 
in  the  Tenth  ward  522.  The  death  rate  of  the  two 
cities  is  also  greatly  in  favor  of  London,  for  while 
in  1889  there  were  in  that  city  17.4  deaths  to 
every  1,000  of  population,  in  New  York  the  rate 
was  25.19. 

CAUSES    OF    POVERTY 

Of  the  first  three  lowest  classes,  there  were  taken 
4,076  families  well  known  to  the  School  Board 
Visitors,  and  their  cases  were  analyzed  with  a  view 
of  ascertaining  the  reasons  why  they  are  in  poverty. 
It  will  be  a  surprise  to  many  that,  out  of  these  4,076 
cases  of  destitution,  only  553  or  13^  per  cent  are 
reported  as  chiefly  due  to  drink.  I  suppose  that  the 
great  majority  of  those  who  attempt  to  account  for 
poverty  would  say  that  80  or  90  per  cent  of  it  could 

14- 


198  THE    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY 

be  traced  to  this  course.  The  fact  that  this  careful 
investigation  of  Mr.  Booth  makes  drink  the  principal 
cause  in  less  than  14  per  cent  of  the  cases  may  well 
lessen  somewhat  the  feeling  of  complacency  with 
which  the  w^ell-to-do  citizen  is  often  inclined  to  look 
upon  the  spectacle  of  poverty.  While  intemperance 
is  a  great  cause  of  poverty,  it  is  not  certainly  the 
chief  cause.  Indeed,  in  a  great  multitude  of  cases 
it  is  the  effect  rather  than  the  cause  of  poverty. 

THE    ENVIRONMENT 

The  other  causes  of  poverty  need  to  be  carefully 
studied.  Ill  health  and  physical  debility  are  some- 
times due  to  vice,  but  they  are  also  due,  in  a  very 
large  measure,  to  the  conditions  under  which  these 
poor  people  are  compelled  to  live.  Anyone  who  will 
traverse  the  narrow  and  filthy  alleys  in  certain  neigh- 
borhoods of  East  London,  or  those  just  south  of 
Holborn,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  great  metropolis, 
noting  the  dark,  forlorn,  miserable  apartments  which 
serve  as  human  habitations,  or  who  will  follow  Mr. 
Riis  in  his  explorations  through  Baxter  street  and 
Mulberry  street,  in  New  York,  will  understand  why 
the  people  who  live  in  such  quarters  should  be  irregu- 
larly employed,  and  why  their  wages  should  be  low. 

It  is  simply  impossible  that  laborers  wdio  get  so 
little  daylight  in  their  dwellings,  and  who  have  so 
little  fresh  air  to  breathe,  should  have  the  physical 
vigor  to  work  continuously  and  to  earn  good  wages. 
And  the  moral  as  well  as  the  physical  qualifications 
of  the  efficient  workers  are  sure  to  be  wanting. 

How  can  men  and  women  who  are  huddled 
together  in  such  horrible  closeness  in  such  dreadful 
dens  possess  the  self-respect,  the  hope,  the  courage, 
the  enterprise,  which  are  the  best  part  of  the  equip- 
ment for  every  kind  of  work  ?  The  lowering  of  the 
physical  and  moral  tone  of  the  denizens  of  such 
dwellings  is  as  inevitable  as  fate.    Much  of  the  time 


THE    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY  199 

they  will  not  be  fit  to  work ;  when  they  do  work  they 
will  be  languid  and  slow ;  they  will  be  the  last  hands 
taken  on  in  the  busy  times,  and  the  first  ones  dis- 
charged in  slack  times ;  that  their  wages  will  be  low 
needs  no  demonstration.  The  point  to  be  noted,  that 
once  down  to  this  level,  the  conditions  become  the 
cause  of  poverty.  If  some  of  these  people  are  here 
because  they  are  poor,  all  of  them  are  poor  because 
they  are  here. 

These  people  work  for  the  lowest  wages.  It 
might  be  supposed  that  they  would,  therefore,  be 
more  likely  to  obtain  employment.  But  this  is  not 
true,  for,  as  a  rule,  they  are  the  dearest  laborers  that 
the  employer  can  hire,  simply  because  of  their 
untrustworthiness  and  inefficiency.  Low  paid  labor 
is  often  the  most  expensive  to  the  employer. 

INDOLENCE    AND    IMPROVIDENCE 

The  unemployed  or  the  irregularly  employed  are 
often  the  victims  of  their  own  indolence  or  incapac- 
ity. We  find  a  goodly  number  of  those  whose  indis- 
position is  due  to  character  more  than  to  environ- 
ment— persons  who  would  not  work  if  their  health 
were  perfect  and  all  the  conditions  were  favorable. 
The  existence  of  this  class  is  demonstrated  whenever 
the  work-test  is  effectively  applied  to  the  tramps 
perambulating  our  streets.  The  great  majority  of 
these  gentry  will  shun  the  towns  where  lodging  and 
breakfast  may  be  earned  by  an  hour  or  two  of  labor 
in  the  morning  in  favor  of  the  towns  where  they  can 
sleep  without  charge  on  the  floor  of  the  station-house, 
and  beg  their  food  from  door  to  door. 

Family  burdens  are  among  the  causes  of  poverty 
discovered  in  this  analysis.  Some  of  the  households 
are  pinched  because  of  the  number  of  small  children. 
And  one  clear  result  of  this  census  is  to  establish  the 
fact  that  the  families  are  largest  in  the  poorest  dis- 


200  THE    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY 

t riots.     Such  is  precisely  the  fact  in  our  own  country, 
as  most  of  us  are  aware. 

Here,  again,  we  have  a  cause  of  poverty  which  is 
also  an  effect  of  poverty. 

ECONOMIC    CONDITIONS 

The  modern  system  of  industry  will  not  work 
without  some  unemployed  margin.  Some  employers 
seem  to  think  that  this  state  of  things  is  to  their 
interest.  The  industrial  machinery  moves  with  great 
irregularity.  Cycles  and  crises  seem  to  occur  with  a 
periodicity  which  can  be  roughly  calculated,  and  in 
almost  every  branch  of  business  there  is  a  busy  sea- 
son when  all  the  machinery  is  driven  to  the  top  of 
its  speed,  and  a  dull  season  when  production  is 
greatly  reduced. 

Unless  there  is  an  industrial  reserve  on  which 
they  can  call  in  driving  times,  the  capitalist  cannot 
meet  the  spasdomic  demand,  and  must  fail  to  secure 
their  customary  profits.  Therefore,  the  modern 
industrial  system  contemplates  irregularity  of 
employment  on  the  part  of  many.  It  expects  to  find, 
at  any  given  moment,  a  small  army  of  men  standing 
idle  in  the  market  place.  It  makes  provision,  there- 
fore, in  all  its  plans  and  estimates,  for  a  certain 
amount  of  poverty.  This  is  not  a  pleasant  fact  to 
contemplate,  but  it  is  hard  to  say  what  can  be  done 
about  it;  moreover  labor  deteriorates  under  casual 
employment  more  than  its  price  falls. 

CHARITY    AS    A    CAUSE    OF    POVERTY 

The  effect  of  indiscriminate  charity  in  breeding 
poverty  must  also  be  taken  into  account.  The  Lord 
Mayor's  fund  of  $350,000,  which  was  flung  out,  by 
a  charitable  impulse,  to  the  poor  of  East  London  a 
few  winters  ago,  caused  far  more  poverty  than  it 
cured.  Many  who  w^ere  getting  along  fairly  well 
without  it  left  their  w^ork  to  depend  on  this  fund. 


THE    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY  201 

and  not  only  forfeited  their  self-respect,  but  sadly 
demoralized  themselves  by  the  deceit  which  they 
practiced  in  getting  it.  ''The  tendency  of  the  fund," 
wrote  one,  shortly  after  its  distribution,  ''has  been 
to  create  a  trust  in  lies."  The  effect  of  this  distribu- 
tion upon  the  applicants  at  large  was  this :  the 
foundation  of  such  independence  of  character  as 
they  possessed  has  been  shaken,  and  some  of  them 
have  taken  the  first  step  in  mendacity,  which  is  too 
often  never  retraced.  So  that  a  large  share  of  our 
well-meant  charities  is  the  increase  of  pauprism. 

CITY    AND    COUNTRY 

Poverty  nests  in  the  cities  and  the  influx  of  popu- 
lation from  the  country  to  the  city  is  a  phenomenon 
worth  studying.  This  immigration  can  be  accounted 
for  in  part  by  the  superior  attractiveness  of  town 
life.  The  movement  and  stir  of  the  city,  the  sights 
and  sensations  of  the  streets,  powerfully  allure  the 
young  men  and  women  of  the  rural  districts,  who 
find  life  on  the  farm  monotonous  and  tame.  "Noth- 
ing is  going  on  in  the  country."  The  higher  wages 
of  labor  in  London  are  the  chief  attraction  to  coun- 
trymen. Healthy  lads  and  men  coming  from  the 
rural  districts  into  the  metropolis  will  be  given  the 
preference  in  many  employments  over  city-bred 
laborers,  because  they  are,  as  a  rule,  stronger  and 
more  trustworthy.  The  countrymen  drawn  in  are 
mainly  the  cream  of  the  country,  and  they  usually 
get  the  pick  of  its  posts.  After  a  generation  or  two, 
many  of  these  robust  laborers  begin  to  drop  down 
in  the  labor  scale ;  their  superiority  is  lost,  and  their 
places  are  filled  by  fresh  levies  upon  the  country. 

IMMIGRATION 

Whatever  may  be  true  of  London,  it  is  probable 
that  a  large  share  of  the  poverty  of  the  American 
cities  is  due  to  the  influx  of  helpless  and  degraded 


202  THE    PROBLUM    OF    POVliRTY 

people  from  other  countries.  London  draws  into 
its  insatiate  maw  the  vigor  of  the  country  and 
impoverishes  it.  New  York  and  Boston  are  them- 
selves largely  impoverished  by  the  immigration  of 
multitudes  whose  standard  of  comfort  is  far  below 
that  of  our  own  people,  and  who  help  to  drag  the 
natives  down  to  their  own  level.  The  American 
policy  seems  to  be  to  prevent  the  pauper  labor  of 
foreign  countries  from  competing  on  its  own  ground 
with  American  labor,  but  to  open  the  doors  as 
widely  as  possible  for  this  "pauper  labor"  to  come 
to  America  and  depress  our  own  labor  market  by 
its  desperate  competition. 

THE    GREED    OF    THE    LANDLORD 

I  shall  name  but  one  other  cause  of  poverty  in 
cities,  and  that  is  the  exorbitance  of  rents.  Owing 
to  the  good  will  and  wnse  statesmanship  in  London, 
workingmen's  rents  in  that  city  are  far  lower  than 
in  New  York  and  in  Boston.  It  is  probable  that  the 
very  poor  of  New  York  pay  more  per  cubic  yard 
for  the  squalid  quarters  they  occupy  than  do  the 
dwellers  on  the  fashionable  streets  for  their  salubri- 
ous and  attractive  homes.  At  any  rate,  the  revenues 
derived  by  the  landlords  from  this  kind  of  property 
are  far  greater  than  those  received  for  the  most 
costly  buildings.  It  is  held  by  those  who  know  that 
the  percentage  very  rarely  falls  below  fifteen  and 
frequently  exceeds  thirty. 

The  growth  of  pauperism,  if  not  of  poverty, 
seems  to  be  due  to  the  decay  of  two  old-fashioned 
social  virtues.  One  of  these  is  family  affection.  The 
individualism  of  the  last  half  century  has  weakened 
the  family.  There  has  been  so  much  talk  of  men's 
rights  and  women's  rights  and  children's  rights  that 
the  mutual  and  reciprocal  duties  and  obligations  of 
the  family  have  come  to  be  undervalued.  Families 
do  not  cling  together  quite  so  closely  as  once  they 


THB    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY  203 

did.  For  this  reason,  many  persons  who  ought  to 
be  cared  for  by  their  own  kindred  become  a  charge 
upon  the  pubhc.  The  shame  of  permitting  one's 
flesh  and  blood  to  become  paupers  ought  to  be 
brought  home  to  every  man  and  woman  who  thus 
casts  off  natural  obligations. 

"The  other  old-fashioned  virtue  to  which  I 
refer,"  so  says  Mr.  Gladden,  ''is  the  manly  inde- 
pendence which  is  the  substratum  of  all  sound  char- 
acter." Why  this  virtue  is  decaying,  there  is  no  time 
now  to  inquire.  We  fear  that  the  effect  of  the 
Stratton  Home,  if  ever  it  is  built,  would  be  injurious 
in  this  particular  that  it  would  pauperize  a  multitude 
by  taking  away  their  independence  and  fastening  a 
spirit  of  dependence  on  such  an  institution.  Take 
away  a  man's  independence  and  you  render  him 
worthless.  To  whatever  cause  the  decay  of  inde- 
pendence may  be  attributed,  the  loss  is  a  very  seri- 
ous one;  and  those  wdio  labor  for  the  removal  of 
the  evils  of  poverty  and  pauperism  may  well  remem- 
ber that  the  foundation  of  all  sound  social  structure 
is  the  sentiment  of  self-help  and  the  just  pride  that 
would  rather  live  upon  a  crust  honestly  earned  than 
feast,  as  a  dependent,  on  any  man's  bounty. 

Mr.,  Gladden  aims  to  set  forth,  tentatively,  some 
remedies  for  poverty,  most  of  which  are  question- 
able. Upon  one,  the  value  of  which  is  not  included 
in  the  category  of  the  questionable,  I  wall  lay  great 
emphasis,  and  that  is  training  of  the  children. 
Escape  from  the  toils  of  penury  might  be  offered  to 
some,  by  furnishing  a  more  practical  education  to 
the  children  of  the  poor.  Some  elementary  indus- 
trial training  would  enlarge  the  resources  of  these 
boys  and  girls  and  might  prevent  many  of  them 
from  dropping  down  into  the  lowest  grades  of  labor, 
where  the  struggle  is  severest.  Especially  would  a 
little  practical  training  in  domestic  economy  be  use- 
ful to  the  girls  of  this  class.     Most  of  them  are 


204       run    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY 

destined  to  be  wives  and  mothers,  and  the  question 
whether  the  household  shall  live  in  pinched  want  or 
in  comparative  comfort  often  depends  on  the  skill 
and  thrift  of  the  wife  and  mother. 

ABANDON    OUT-OF-DOOR    RELIEF 

Among  the  students  of  this  problem  the  aboli- 
tion of  public  out-of-door  relief  is,  however, 
scarcely  an  open  question.  It  is  simply  impossible 
that  our  overseers  of  the  poor  should  intelligently 
administer  relief  to  the  multitude  of  applicants  daily 
appearing  before  them.  Imposture  flourishes  under 
such  a  system,  and  the  dependent  classes  are  stead- 
ily recruited.  Therefore  it  would  be  infinitely  better 
if  the  state  would  give  no  relief  except  in  its  alms- 
houses and  children's  homes,  leaving  all  the  out-of- 
door  to  be  dispensed  by  private  charity.  A  few  of 
our  cities  have  tried  this  experiment  with  the  most 
gratifying  results. 

Xot  long  since.  President  Eliot,  of  Harvard, 
addressed  a  large  meeting  of  laboring  men  of  Bos- 
ton. His  subject  was,  "What  modifications  of  exist- 
ing labor  conditions  will  tend  toward  permanent 
industrial  peace  and  be  absolutely  consistent  with 
the  democratic  ideal  of  liberty?"  His  headings 
were :  "Steadiness  of  employment  is  reasonably 
desired  by  both  the  workman  and  the  employer.  The 
instant  dismissal  of  the  laborer  by  the  employer, 
except  for  the  clearest  reasons,  is  brutal  and  incon- 
sistent with  considerate  relations  between  labor  and 
capital."  Secondly,  "Another  common  need  for 
workmen  and  employers  is  that  condition  of  labor 
which  permits  the  laborer  to  have  a  settled  place  of 
abode.  A  wandering  population  can  hardly  be  a 
civilized  one."  Thirdly,  "It  is  desirable  to  give  the 
w^orkmen  two  things  which  they  now  but  rarely 
obtain — first,  a  voice  in  the  discipline  of  the  w^orks, 
including  that  very  important  part  of  discipline,  the 


THE    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY  205 

dealing  with  complaints;  and,  secondly,  a  direct 
pecuniary  interest  besides  wages  in  the  proceeds  of 
the  combined  application  of  the  capital  and  the  labor 
to  the  steady  production  of  salable  goods." 

Laboring  men,  almost  unanimously,  believe  that 
the  faithful  and  industrious  workman  who  works 
for  years  in  the  same  industrial  establishment  has 
earned  something  more  than  the  wages  paid  him. 
They  recognize  the  fact  that  only  the  settled  or 
reasonably  permanent  workman  has  any  claim  on 
this  intelligible  and  yet  real  something. 

"Looking  back,"  said  he,  ''on  my  own  working 
life,  spent  in  the  service  of  a  single  institution,  I  see 
clearly  what  a  happy  privilege  it  is  to  give  unstinted 
service  to  an  undying  institution  in  whose  perma- 
nent and  enlarging  serviceableness  one  ardently 
believes. 

'The  demand  for  larger  wages,"  so  says  the 
commentator,  "or  lessened  hours  is  sometimes  made 
when  the  conditions  of  the  industry  do  not  justify 
it,  but  back  of  that  demand  is  an  ill-defined  convic- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  workingman  that  he  has  a 
right  to  some  share  in  the  profits  of  business,  which, 
so  long  as  he  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  facts  by 
his  employer,  he  is  only  too  apt  to  exaggerate.  This 
involves  a  recognition  by  both  employer  and 
employed  of  the  idea  that  they  are  partners  in  a 
common  industrial  enterprise,  and  that  this  partner- 
ship gives  to  each  some  voice  in  the  control  of  the 
business,  some  knowledge  of  its  afTairs,  and  some 
share  in  its  profits." 

This  may  be  very  good  doctrine  in  large  enter- 
prises, but  could  hardly  apply  to  small  and  tem- 
porary ones. 

Mr.  Eliot  used  one  word  in  his  address  which 
deserves  further  consideration  in  this  connection, 
and  that  word  is  "liberty."  Surely  the  conflict  of 
labor  and  capital  can  go  on  without  interfering  with 


20(5  THE    PROBLEM    OF    POVERTY 

the  liberty  of  any  one.  When  it  comes  to  infringing 
upon  the  hberty,  whatever  benefits  may  accompany 
the  act  on  either  side,  there  is  something  wrong 
somewhere  and  somehow.  Liberty  is  especially 
infringed  upon  when  the  laboring  man  is  hindered 
or  prevented  from  working  by  other  laboring  men, 
be  he  non-union  or  what  not. 

If  one  has  a  right  to  live,  he  has  the  inherent 
right  to  work  to  obtain  the  means  of  living.  Just 
as  well  murder  him  outright  as  prevent  him  work- 
ing for  a  living. 

No  laboring  man  has  a  right  to  injure  or  destroy 
capital,  for  capital  is  but  stored-up  labor.  Neither 
has  capital  the  right  to  cripple  or  interfere  with 
labor,  for  labor  is  the  creator  of  capital  to  a  large 
extent. 

Nor  under  the  constitution  of  our  state  has  the 
government  the  right  to  injure  labor  by  deporting 
the  laboring  men  outside  of  its  borders,  as  was  the 
case  under  the  administration  of  Governor  Peabody. 
Surely  men  can  be  made  to  behave  themselves  in 
this  civilized  age  by  enforcing  the  law  without  such 
a  barbarous  measure  as  deportation.  If  there  be 
any  truth  in  the  theory  of  evolution  as  taught  by 
its  greatest  apostle,  Herbert  Spencer,  that  all  things 
are  growing  better,  more  perfect,  on  the  whole, 
although  there  are  times  when  such  does  not  seem 
to  be  the  case,  this  conflict  of  labor  and  capital  will 
be  compromised  by  the  yielding  of  both  in  a  meas- 
ure. The  frequent  failure  of  modern  labor  strikes 
only  seem  to  presage  that  day.  At  least  we  are 
among  those  who  look  upon  the  bright  side  of  the 
problem. 


Some  Charaders  of  Animals  Which 
Are  Common  to  Man 

First,  intelligence.  Mr.  John  Burroughs,  who 
has  a  small  farm  in  the  back-woods  of  the  state  of 
New  York,  has  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  the 
study  and  writing  up  of  the  habits  of  animals ;  but, 
doubtless,  the  animals  he  studied  had  not  come  in 
contact  with  man  to  any  great  extent,  for  he  greatly 
depreciates  their  intelligence.  He  seems  given  to  a 
bent  in  that  direction. 

To  show  the  grotesque  ignorance  of  some  ani- 
mals, an  instance  is  given  by  him  of  a  cow  cited  by 
Hamerton,  which  would  not  give  down  her  milk 
unless  she  had  her  calf  before  her. 

''But  her  calf  had  died,  so  the  herdsman  took  the 
skin  of  the  calf  and  stuffed  it  with  hay,  and  stood  it 
up  before  her.  Instantly  she  proceeded  to  lick  it  and 
to  yield  her  milk.  One  day,  in  licking  it,  she  ripped 
open  the  seam,  and  out  rolled  the  hay.  This  at  once 
the  mother  proceeded  to  eat,  without  a  look  of  sur- 
prise or  alarm." 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Romanes  has  written  a 
large  book  upon  animal  intelligence,  in  which  he 
takes  the  opposite  view,  doubtless  because,  to  some 
extent  he  is  an  evolutionist.  In  this  he  shows  the 
oneness  of  mind  in  man  and  other  animals.  "His 
definition  of  mind  is  the  power  of  learning — the 
capacity  of  improving  by  experience."  He  cites 
many  examples,  from  the  snail  up  to  the  monkey,  to 
prove  this  capacity. 

2(fl 


208  CIIARACrilRISTICS   OP   ANIMALS 

Jn  our  pony  and  dog  shows  and  in  manageries 
we  have  all  witnessed  the  remarkable  intelligence  of 
dogs,  horses,  seals,  elephants  and  other  animals. 

FRIENDSHIP    AMONG   ANIMALS 

I  will  cite  some  cases  of  queer  animal  friendships. 
\\\\y  married  folk  so  ill-mated  as  to  agree  only  to 
differ  should  be  said  to  lead  a  cat-and-dog  life  is  not 
very  clear,  since  those  household  pets,  being  affec- 
tionate, cheerful  and  sociable  creatures,  very  fre- 
quently continue  to  live  harmoniously  together.  The 
Aston  cat,  that  ate,  associated  and  slept  with  a  huge 
blood  hound,  only  did  w^hat  innumerable  cats  have 
done.  Many  equine  celebrities  have  delighted  in 
feline  companions,  following  in  this  the  example  of 
their  notable  ancestor,  the  Godolphin  Arab,  betw^een 
whom  and  a  black  cat  an  intimate  friendship  existed 
for  years,  a  friendship  that  came  to  a  touching  end  ; 
for  when  that  famous  steed  died,  the  cat  refused  to 
be  comforted,  but  pined  aw^ay  and  died  also. 

Lemmery  shut  up  a  cat  and  several  mice  together 
in  a  cage.  The  mice  in  time  got  to  be  very  friendly, 
and  plucked  and  nibbled  at  their  feline  friend.  When 
any  of  them  grew  troublesome,  she  W'Ould  gently  box 
their  ears. 

A  pair  of  carriage  horses  taken  to  water  at  a 
stone  trough  were  followed  by  a  dog  who  was  in 
the  habit  of  lying  in  the  stall  of  one  of  them.  As 
he  gamboled  on  in  front,  the  creature  w^as  suddenly 
attacked  by  a  mastiff  far  too  strong  for  his  power  of 
resistance,  and  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  him 
but  for  the  unlooked-for  intervention  of  his  stable 
companion,  which,  breaking  loose  from  the  man  who 
w^as  leading  it,  made  for  the  battling  dogs,  and  with 
one  well-delivered  kick  sent  the  mastiff  into  a  cellar, 
and  then  quietly  returned  to  the  trough  and  finished 
his  drink. 

When  Cowper  cautiously  introduced  a  hare  that 


CHARACTERISTICS   OF   ANIMALS  209 

had  never  seen  a  spaniel  to  a  dog  of  this  breed  that 
had  never  seen  a  hare,  he  discovered  no  token  of  fear 
in  the  one,  no  sign  of  hostihty  in  the  other,  and  the 
new  acquaintances  were  soon  in  all  respects  sociable 
and  friendly — a  proof,  the  poet  thought,  that  there 
was  no  natural  antipathy  between  dog  and  hare. 

Says  one  in  Chambers'  Journal,  to  which  maga- 
zine I  am  greatly  indebted  for  the  above  illustrations 
of  animal  friendship :  "The  last  time  we  visited  the 
lion  house,  we  watched,  with  no  little  amusement, 
the  antics  of  a  dog,  who  w^as  evidently  quite  at  home 
in  a  cage  occupied  by  a  tiger  and  tigeress.  The  noble 
pair  of  beasts  were  reclining  side  by  side,  the  tiger's 
tail  hanging  over  the  side  of  the  couch.  The  dog, 
unable  to  resist  the  temptation,  laid  hold  of  it  with 
its  teeth  and  pulled  with  a  will,  in  spite  of  sundry 
remonstrances  on  the  part  of  the  owner  of  the  tail, 
until  he  elicited  a  deep  growl  of  disapproval.  Then 
he  let  go,  sprang  upon  the  tiger's  side,  curled  him- 
self up  and  went  to  sleep. 

THE  MORAL  SENSE  OF  THE  LOWER  ANIMALS 

All  the  definitions  of  the  moral  sense  apply  to 
an  equivocal  mental  attribute  in  the  lower  animals. 
Thus  the  moral  sense  in  man  has  been  defined  by 
different  authors  to  be  or  to  include : 

First — "A  knowledge,  appreciation  or  sense  of 
a  "Right  and  wrong. 
0  "Good  and  evil. 
c  "Justice  and  injustice. 

Second — "Conscience,  involving  feelings  of 
approbation,  or  the  reverse  in  relation  to  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong. 

Third — "The  approval  of  what  is  conducive  to 
well-being,  and  the  disapproval  of  the  reverse. 

Fourth — "A  sense  of  duty  and  of  moral  obliga- 
tion. 


210  CHARACrilRISriCS   OF   ANIMALS 

Fifth — "Appreciation  of  the  results  of  honesty 
and  dishonesty. 

Sixth — ''Virtue  or  virtuousness,  including  espe- 
cially such  moral  virtues  as  consciousness,  scrupul- 
ousness, integrity,  compassion,  benevolence,  fidelity, 
charity,  mercy,  magninimity,  disinterestedness  and 
modesty." 

There  is  not  one  of  these  moral  qualities  that  is 
not  possessed  sometimes  in  a  high  degree  by  certain 
of  the  lower  animals,  and  more  especially  the  dog. 

There  are  many  authors  who  are  willing  to  grant 
them  morality  akin  to  that  of  man;  high  authorities 
at  that,  such  as  Agassiz,  Froude  and  Shaftbury.  The 
dog,  at  least,  frequently  exhibits  a  knowledge  of 
right  and  wTong,  making  a  deliberate  choice  of  the 
one  or  the  other,  perfectly  aware  of  and  prepared 
for  the  consequences  of  such  a  selection.  The  animal 
has  occasionally  the  moral  courage  to  choose  the 
right  and  to  suffer  for  it,  to  fear  wrong  rather  than 
do  it.  One  of  the  evidences  is  that  it  looks  at  once 
for  some  sign  of  his  master's  approbation. 

Temptation  frequently  begets  in  the  dog,  cat  and 
other  animals  some  kind  of  mental  or  moral  agita- 
tion, and  the  same  sort  of  result,  as  in  man.  Some- 
times we  can  see,  in  the  dog,  for  instance,  the  whole 
play  of  the  animal's  mind — the  battle  between  its 
virtuous  and  vicious  propensities,  its  promptings  to 
the  right  and  its  endeavors  to  stick  to  the  right;  its 
longing  for  the  wrong,  for  the  tit-bit  which  it  knows 
it  would  be  wrong  to  steal — and  the  final  triumph 
either  of  virtue  or  temptation.  But  in  the  dog,  cat 
and  other  animals,  the  wrong-doing  is  accompanied 
by  a  perfect  consciousness  of  the  nature  of  their 
behavior.  They  are  quite  aware  of  being  engaged 
in  actions  that  will  bring  inevitable  punishment, 
which  penalty,  moreover,  they  are  sensible  they 
deserve. 


CHARACTERISTICS   OF   ANIMALS  211 

"Abundant  evidence  of  a  consciousness  of  wrong- 
doing is  to  be  found  either  generally  in  the 

First — ''Pricks,  stings,  or  pangs  of  conscience. 

Second — ''The  various  expressions  of  a  sense  of 
guilt,  for  instance,  the 
a  "Sneaking  gait, 
h  "Depressed  head,  ears  and  tail, 
c  "Temporary  disappearance, 
d  "Permanent  absconding. 

Third — ^"The  multiform  exhibition  of  contrition, 
regret,  repentance,  self-reproach,  remorse. 
Or  more  specially  in  the 

Fourth — "Efforts  at  reconciliation  and  pardon. 

Fifth — "Various  forms  of  making  atonement. 

Sixth — "Concealment  of  crime  or  its  proofs. 

"Conscience  is  frequently  as  severe  a  monitor  in 
other  animals  as  in  man ;  its  reproaches  as  stinging 
and  as  hard  to  be  borne;  its  torments  sometimes 
intolerable." 

We  may  speak  quite  correctly,  for  instance,  of 
the  conscience-stricken  animal  thief — the  cat  or 
dog — caught  in  the  act  of  pilfering  from  the  larder. 
A  female  dog  having  once  eaten  a  quantity  of 
shrimps  intended  for  her  master's  dinner  sauce,  had 
only  to  be  asked  ever  after, "Who  stole  the  shrimps?" 
to  cause  her  to  take  to  ignominous  flight,  ears  and 
tail  down,  going  to  bed,  refusing  to  be  comforted, 
the  picture  of  shame  and  remorse. 

A  young  dog  having  committed  some  offense 
against  the  established  rules  of  its  master's  house- 
hold, "after  we  had  shaken  our  heads  at  him  and 
turned  away,  although  he  must  have  been  very  hun- 
gry, would  not  touch  his  food,  but  sat  close  to  the 
door  whining  and  crying,  till  we  made  up  with  him 
by  telling  him  he  was  forgiven,  and  taking  his  offered 
paw,  when  he  ate  his  supper  and  went  quietly  to 
bed." 


212  LllARACTERlSriCS   Of   ANIMALS 

Various  animals  resent  and  revenge  the  wrongs 
committed  by  man  not  only  on  themselves  or  their 
fellows,  but  even  on  brother  man ;  and  this  sense  of 
wrong  or  injury  indicted  upon  others  leads  some- 
times to  their  defense  of  man  against  his  fellow 
man. 

A  case  happened  recently  in  Ireland  of  a  pet  cow- 
that  defended  its  mistress  against  the  ill-usage  of  its 
master,  its  mistress'  husband;  and  many  instances 
have  been  recorded  of  the  dog,  elephant  and  horse 
doing  similar  kindness  to  their  human  favorites. 

The  dog,  horse,  mule,  elephant  and  other  animals 
have  frequently  a  distinct  sense,  feeling  or  knowl- 
edge of  duty,  trust  or  task;  and  this  not  only  as 
regards  their  own  personal  obligation3,  but  in  so  far 
as  duty  of  various  kinds  is  attachable  to  other  indi- 
viduals of  the  same  species  and  those  of  man  him- 
self— when,  for  instance,  such  duty  of  man's  has  any 
immediate  reference  to  or  connection  with  them- 
selves. 

The  working  elephant,  for  instance,  requires  that 
the  nature  of  its  work  should  be  explained  to  it,  to 
as  great  an  extent  as  possible  demonstratively  by 
illustration.  It  very  quickly  and  readily  compre- 
hends what  it  is  that  man  wishes  and  expects  it  to  do, 
and  it  very  soon  learns  to  execute  its  task  without 
supervision,  bringing  to  the  discharge  of  its  duty 
much  zeal  and  obvious  dread  of  failure. 

The  dog  frequently  makes  duty  and  its  discharge 
paramount  to  all  other  considerations.  To  it  are 
sacrificed  even  revenge,  on  the  one  hand,  or  tempta- 
tions to  the  pursuit  of  game,  or  to  access  to  food,  on 
the  other.  Death  itself  is  sometimes  preferred  to 
the  desertion  of  a  trust  or  charge.  When  on  duty, 
a  dog  intrusted  with  a  message  from  a  master  very 
literally  places  "business  before  pleasure;"  its  self- 
control  may  even  prevent  desirable  or  necessary  self- 
defense.     It  has  to  be  remarked  that  the  moral  vir- 


CHARACTERISTICS   OF   ANIMALS  213 

tues  are  illustrated  mainly  by  or  in  those  animals 
that  have  directly  or  indirectly  received  their  moral 
training  from  man — such  animals  as  the  dog,  ele- 
phant and  horse.  As  a  general  rule  (to  which  there 
are  exceptions  both  in  man  and  other  animals)  the 
human  child  and  the  young  animg.1  can  equally  be 
educated  both  to  distinguish  and  to  do  the  right. 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  these  wonderful  char- 
acteristics, animals,  as  well  as  men,  are  guilty  of 
various  crimes  which  is  favorable  to  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  and  the  oneness  of  mind. 

CRIME    AMONG    ANIMALS 

The  gulf  which  philosophers  of  former  centuries 
created  between  men  and  animals  no  longer  exists, 
the  theory  of  evolution  and  mental  philosophy  having 
shown  that  there  is  no  break  in  the  long  chain  of 
living  beings.  No  science  has  been  more  useful  in 
showing  the  universal  fraternity  existing  between  all 
living  beings  than  general  psycology;  no  discovery 
made  by  the  human  mind  has  been  so  great  as  that 
which  has  led  man  to  recognize  a  part  of  himself 
throughout  the  whole  realm  of  nature,  even  in  the 
humblest  of  animals.  If  there  be  any  truth  in  the 
doctrine  of  evolution,  from  what  we  know  of  the 
higher  animals,  their  noble  traits,  their  docility,  their 
patience  and  their  affection,  we  would  not,  from  this 
source  of  information,  expect  man  to  be  totally 
depraved,  totally  devoid  of  good  qualities.  Neither 
would  we  expect  him  to  be  perfect.  We  would 
expect  him  to  carry  along  with  him  the  infirmities 
and  somewhat  of  the  criminality  of  his  ancestors,  the 
lower  animals. 

This  is  why  the  school  of  criminal  anthropology, 
founded  by  Professor  Lombroso,  the  eminent  Italian 
savant,  has  endeavored  to  discover  in  the  animal 
species  the  origin  of  the  mysterious  and  terrible 
phenomenon  we  call  "crime."     Nevertheless,  many 

15— 


214  CJlAKACriiRISnCS    Of    ANIMALS 

of  the  examples  given  by  him  cannot  be  regarded  as 
real  crimes,  as  they  are  solely  the  result  of  the  strug- 
gle for  existence.  Anyway,  we  shall  find  that  ani- 
mals do  become  guilty  of  real  crimes,  when,  with- 
out the  slightest  necessity,  they  commit  actions  which 
are  hurtful  to  their  species  or  companions.  Among 
animals,  as  among  men,  there  are  individuals  which 
are  incapable  of  living  and  satisfying  their  wants 
without  doing  some  harm  to  their  fellows;  therefore, 
they  are  abnormal  and  criminal  beings,  for  their 
actions  do  not  tend  to  ensure  the  prosperity  of  their 
species.  Almost  every  form  and  variety  of  human 
crime  is  thus  to  be  found  among  animals. 

Cases  of  theft  are  noticed  among  bees,  for 
instance.  Buchner  speaks  of  thievish  bees  which,  in 
order  to  save  themselves  the  trouble  of  working, 
attack  well-stocked  hives  in  masses,  kill  the  sentinels 
and  the  inhabitants,  rob  the  hives,  and  carry  off  the 
provisions. 

''After  repeated  enterprises  of  this  description, 
they  acquire  a  taste  for  robbery  and  violence;  they 
recruit  whole  companies  which  get  more  and  more 
numerous,  and  finally  they  form  regular  colonies  of 
brigand-bees.  But  it  is  still  a  more  curious  fact  that 
these  brigand-bees  can  be  produced  artificially  by  giv- 
ing working-bees  a  mixture  of  honey  and  brandy  to 
drink.  The  bees  soon  acquire  a  taste  for  this  bever- 
age, which  has  the  same  disastrous  effect  upon  them 
as  upon  men.  They  become  ill-disposed  and  irritable, 
and  lose  all  desire  to  \vork;  and,  finally,  when  they 
begin  to  feel  hungry,  they  attack  and  plunder  the 
well-supplied  hives  of  others." 

There  is  one  variety  of  bees  which  lives  exclu- 
sively upon  plunder.  They  may  thus  be  said  to  be 
examples  of  innate  and  organic  criminality  among 
insects,  and  they  represent  what  Professor  Lombroso 
calls  the  born  criminals — that  is,  individuals  which 
are  led  to  crime  by  their  own  organic  constitution. 


CHARACTERISTICS   OF   ANIMALS  215 

Real  instances  of  theft  may  also  be  observed 
among  pigeons  in  the  artificial  communities  formed 
by  dove-cotes.  It  has  been  remarked  that  in  almost 
every  dove-cote  there  are  individuals  which  try  to 
obtain  the  material  necessary  to  build  their  nests  by 
extracting  it  from  the  heap  of  straws  collected  by 
the  others  for  that  purpose;  in  short,  they  try  to 
procure  what  they  need  at  their  neighbor's  expense, 
rather  than  go  in  search  of  it  themselves.  Moreover, 
these  thieves  show  themselves  lazy,  idle  and  bad 
carriers,  flying  slowly,  and  often  losing  their  way, 
so  that  they  are  not  to  be  relied  upon.  Thus,  the 
same  physiological  characteristics  is  to  be  found 
among  these  thieves,  as  among  those  of  human 
species — the  inability  to  work. 

Nor  is  murder  wanting  among  animals :  that  is 
to  say,  not  murder  such  as  is  caused  by  the  exigencies 
of  the  struggle  for  life,  but  murder  committed  under 
the  influence  of  individual  malice  or  passion.  Ani- 
mals which  kill  others  of  their  own  species  are  guilty 
of  a  true  criminal  act  when  they  do  so  for  any  other 
reason  than  that  of  self-defense.  Thus  Karl  Vogt 
has  observed  a  couple  of  storks  that  had  for  several 
years  built  their  nests  in  a  village  near  Solette. 

"One  day  it  was  noticed  that  when  the  male  was 
out  in  search  of  food,  another  young  bird  began  to 
court  the  female.  At  first  he  was  repulsed,  then  tol- 
erated, and  welcomed.  At  last,  one  morning  the  two 
birds  flew  away  to  the  field  where  the  husband  was 
hunting  for  frogs,  and  killed  him." 

According  to  Riehm,  storks  often  murder  the 
members  of  the  flock  which  either  refuse  to  follow 
them  at  the  time  of  migration  or  are  not  able  to  do 
so.  Parrots  will  sometimes  attack  their  companions 
and  crush  their  skulls  by  repeated  blows  from  their 
beaks.  Houzeau  has  noticed  among  man-like  mon- 
keys (especially  among  the  females  in  menageries) 
that  they  treat  each  other  with  the  greatest  cruelty. 


210  CUARACTliRlSTICS   OP    AXJMALS 

and  sometimes  even  kill  each  other.  It  is  a  peculiar 
feeling  of  hatred  for  the  individuals  of  their  own  sex 
which  often  leads  them  to  murder. 

Infanticide  is  a  crime  of  very  frequent  occurrence 
among  animals.  In  almost  all  zoological  species  we 
find  females  which  refuse  to  be  burdened  with  the 
bringing  up  of  their  young.  Sometimes  they  aban- 
don, and  sometimes  they  kill  them.  There  is  no 
doubt  that  these  are  instances  of  real  criminals. 

Segnior  Aluccioli  noticed  a  dove  in  his  dove-cote 
which  "killed  the  young  of  every  brood  by  crushing 
their  skulls  with  her  beak."  Professor  Lombroso 
has  seen  a  hen  which  used  to  make  a  selection  among 
her  young  similar  to  that  made  by  the  Spartans — she 
killed  the  feeble  and  lame  chicks,  and  only  brought 
up  those  which  were  healthy  and  strong. 

Crimes  caused  by  mental  alienation  are  also  to  be 
found  among  the  more  intelligent  species — crimes 
very  much  like  those  caused  by  madness  in  man. 
Thus  among  elephants  there  are  instances  in  which 
individuals  are  seized  with  a  desire  to  kill  other 
elephants  and  men,  without  provocation,  wdiereas 
normally  the  elephant  has  an  extremely  meek  and 
peaceable  character.  In  India,  where  one  has  been 
expelled  from  its  herd,  the  morbid  state  of  mind 
is  attributed  to  the  solitude  in  which  they  live.  One 
is  tempted  to  attribute  this  condition  to  a  form  of 
hysteria,  owing  to  its  origin  in  solitude,  and  to  that 
total  change  in  the  animal's  whole  existence  which 
attends  the  passage  from  social  life  to  loneliness. 

Another  kind  of  crime  has  been  observed  in  a 
certain  kind  of  ants.  Female  combatants  often, 
after  a  fight,  fall  into  a  passionate  fury,  in  which 
they  blindly  try  to  bite  everything — around — their 
companions,  and  even  the  slaves,  who  endeavor  to 
calm  them  by  seizing  their  feet  and  holding  them 
until  their  fit  of  rage  shall  have  passed  off.  This 
is  something  analogous  to  the  mad  thirst  for  blood, 


CHARACTERISTICS   OF   ANIMALS  217 

the  feverish  desire  to  kill,  that  sometimes  seizes 
men  in  time  of  war. 

Rodent  says  that  "in  every  regiment  of  cavalry 
one  may  always  find  some  horses  which  rebel 
against  discipline,  and  let  no  opportunity  escape 
them  of  doing  harm,  either  to  man  or  to  their  com- 
panions. What  is  more  curious,  these  horses  are 
said  to  present  an  anomily  in  the  formation  of  their 
skulls,  having  a  narrow  and  retreating  forehead." 

Arabs  will  not  admit  to  their  stables  the  off- 
spring of  horses  which  are  thus  affected.  This  fact 
might  lead  us  to  suspect  that  the  phenomena  which 
relate  to  the  hereditary  nature  of  criminal  instincts 
are  not  observable  in  the  human  species  only.  Other 
facts,  indeed,  could  be  quoted  in  support  of  this 
hypothesis  to  prove  that  the  laws  of-  criminal  hered- 
ity are  the  same  in  man  and  in  animals. 

Thus  all  the  phenomena  of  human  crime  are 
found  among  the  animal  species,  but  on  a  smaller 
scale.  The  animals  are  in  a  certain  sense  less  crim- 
inal than  man. 

Man  is,  indeed,  the  most  ferocious  of  all  beings. 
However,  there  is  nothing  to  astonish  us  in  this. 
Man  is  capable  of  attaining  a  higher  degree  of  evil 
than  any  other  animal,  but  he  is  also  capable  of 
reaching  a  higher  degree  of  good.  The  cause  of 
this  is  higher  intelligence.  Intelligence  is  an  instru- 
ment that  can  be  wielded  for  good,  as  well  as  evil. 
Man  has  had  to  pay  for  his  immense  pre-eminence 
in  good  by  a  pre-eminence  in  evil.  The  one 
superiority  implies  the  other,  and  the  species  which 
produces  the  greatest  heroes  cannot  fail,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  produce  the  greatest  criminals. 

For  the  latter  above  observations  I  am  greatly 
indebted  to  the  writings  of  one  William  Ferrero. 


The  Transmission  of  Acquired 
Charaders 

An  acquired  character  is  one  that  is  not  con- 
genitial,  but  has  arisen,  no  matter  how,  since  the 
birth  of  the  organism  possessing  it.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  understand  how  physical  characters  are 
transmitted  by  heredity,  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  see 
how  mind  or  mental  characteristics  could  be,  as 
mind  is  ordinarily  understood — that  is,  as  an  inde- 
pendent entity.  Let  us  see,  then,  if  we  cannot  find 
a  more  intimate  connection  between  mind  and  body 
than  is  generally  supposed  to  exist. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  necessary  to  show  that 
our  sensations,  which  are  functions  of  the  nerve 
tissue  and  harbingers  of  mind,  have  a  modifying 
influence  upon  the  brain  and  nervous  system,  and 
that  an  important  connection  is  thereby  established 
between  mind  and  body.  The  establishment  of  this 
connection  commences  right  away  after  birth,  so 
that  it  is  not  a  prenatal  one.  It  grows  out  of  the 
effects  of  sensations  upon  the  brain  and  nerve.  Sen- 
sations are  both  general,  such  as  proceed  from  the 
general  surface  of  the  body,  and  special,  such  as 
proceed  from  the  special  senses — hearing,  seeing, 
smell  and  taste.  ''Whenever  an  impression  enters 
the  body  from  without,"  so  says  William  James,  of 
Harvard,  "the  only  thing  it  can  do  is  to  find  its 
way  out.  In  doing  this,  it  makes  a  path,  and  this 
path  it  leaves  behind  it."  This  is  an  important 
matter,  as  we  shall  see,  for  this  is  a  material  path, 

218 


TRAXSMISSIOX   OF   CHARACTERS  219 

and  is  a  more  or  less  fixed  and  permanent  one.  No 
matter,  for  the  present,  what  the  path  taken  may 
have  been,  the  nutrition  along  this  route  in  the 
brain,  or  nerve  substance,  is  altered — altered 
through  the  agency  of  the  current  of  sensation. 
Other  sensations — that  is,  sensations  of  different 
orders — leave  their  own  routes  behind  them.  \Mien 
w^e  consider  the  multitude  of  sensations  to  which  the 
new-born  infant  is  subjected,  we  see  how  the  brain 
early  begins  to  fill  with  routes  or  paths  for  sensa- 
tions. 

Thus  we  see  how,  by  experience,  the  mind  trav- 
els paths  or  along  lines  of  its  own  creation.  These 
routes  not  only  establish  a  connection  between  mind 
and  body,  but  give  origin  to  habit,  or  future  con- 
duct, since  a  second  sensation,  by  reason  of  a 
peculiarity  of  the  brain  tissue,  travels  more  readily 
in  an  already  established  route  and  deepens  it,  so  to 
speak.  What  habits  are  to  the  man,  you  all  know. 
You  know  that  they  constitute  the  great  part  of  the 
man  himself;  they  are  his  acquired  nature.  "Our 
sensations  lead  to  preceptions,  comparisons,  reasons, 
and  intellect,  feeling  and  will,  which  also  open  still 
other  routes,  and  by  nutrition  taking  place  along 
these  routes,  the  brain  grows  to  our  habits  of  think- 
ing, feeling  and  acting,"  so  says  Dr.  Carpenter. 

For  convenience  sake,  we  speak  of  routes,  or 
paths,  in  the  brain,  which  is  all  right  as  far  as  it 
goes;  but  there  are  modifications  of  brain  tissue  in 
addition — modifications  through  nutrition  in  corela- 
tion  to  mental  activities.  The  permanency  of  the 
modifications  are  due  to  the  fact  that  they  are  pre- 
served by  nutrition,  just  as  a  scar  on  a  boy's  face 
is  perpetuated  through  life.  We  see  the  permanency 
of  these  modifications  in  the  faculty  of  memory. 
Sufiice  it  to  say,  the  events  of  childhood  may  endure 
in  the  memory  throughout  life.  It  is  a  question,  in 
fact,  whether  a  modification  once  wrought  deeply  in 


22U  TRAXSMJSSIOX   OF   CHARACTERS 

tlie  brain  ever  entirely  disappears.  It  may  lie  long 
dormant,  but  is  the  cause  of  it  entirely  beyond  the 
power  of  recall,  since  the  modification  is  the  record 
of  that  cause? 

It  requires  time  for  the  completion  of  these 
modifications.  This  we  see  from  the  effect  of 
certain  head  injuries.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that 
the  memory  not  only  fails  for  subsequent  events,  in 
such  cases,  but  that  preceding  ones,  for  a  day  or  so, 
have  been  forgotten.  This  shows  that  nutrition  had 
not  had  time  to  effect  its  full  modification  in  the 
brain.  I  dislike  the  words  ''impressions"  or  "pic- 
tures" as  upon  the  retina,  for  instance,  as  they  are 
misleading.  I  prefer  the  word  "modification"  as 
more  intelligible.  These  modifications  are  material 
changes  wrought  in  the  brain  substance,  rendered 
such  by  the  part  played  through  nutrition,  which  is 
a  material  process.  But  is  not  this  materialism?  If 
so,  the  mind  is  the  author  of  its  own  materializa- 
tion. It  is  true,  the  mind,  or  mental  activities, 
ingrain  themselves  into  the  intimate  anatomy  of  the 
brain,  so  that  our  ideas  in  this  way  become  organ- 
ized or  builded  into  the  brain  substance,  constituting 
a  modification  thereof,  the  revivability  of  these  ideas 
being  dependent  upon  these  modifications,  which 
are  their  records.  This  is  the  conclusion  reached  by 
the  most  advanced  physicologist  and  physiologist, 
and  this  is  what  we  want  to  impress.  This  makes 
the  bod)^  a  part  of  our  intellectual  and  moral  char- 
acters. The  thought  that  our  bodies  should  be  a 
part  of  our  characters  may  be  a  novel  one,  but  it  is 
an  inevitable  conclusion,  and  it  enables  us  to  see 
that  the  possibility  of  inheriting  mental  character- 
istics is  not  beyond  reason. 

To  show  the  influence  of  the  mind  upon  the 
body,  although  it  is  a  digression,  I  will  mention  the 
fact  that  bad  news  is  frequently  followed  by  a  spell 
of  illness,  showing  the  intimacy  of  the  connection. 


TRANSMISSION   OF   CHARACTERS  221 

The  modifications  referred  to  are  not  only  in 
the  interior  of  the  brain,  effecting  its  minute  anat- 
omy, but  apply  to  the  surface  of  that  organ  as  well, 
and  are  visible  to  the  naked  eye,  post-mortem,  of 
course.  There  is  quite  a  difference  in  the  superficial 
markings  of  the  brains  of  civilized  men  and  those 
of  savages,  the  former  being  deeply  fissured,  so  as 
to  increase  the  surface,  or  thinking  part,  of  that 
organ,  those  of  the  others  being  comparatively 
smooth,  so  say  anatomists. 

If  sensations  and  the  mind,  which  they  arouse, 
can  w^ork  such  changes  in  the  brain,  of  which  there 
can  be  no  question,  why  should  they  be  thought 
incapable  of  impressing  themselves  upon  the  body 
in  such  wise  as  to  develop  in  the  off-spring  mental 
characteristics,  though  entirely  acquired  by  the 
parents  ? 

In  view  of  the  modifications  wrought  in  the  body 
by  the  mind,  these  do  not  go  to  establish  the  trans- 
mission of  ancestral  characteristics.  There  must  be 
some  chain  independent  of  the  newly  developed 
mind  of  the  infant.  We  speak  of  it  as  developed, 
for  the  surroundings  of  the  individual  and  the  sen- 
sations proceeding  therefrom,  which  pour  in  upon 
the  new  brain,  have  the  effect  of  developing  mind 
(we  do  not  say  of  creating  it),  so  that  prior  to  this 
there  was,  presumably,  no  mind  at  all,  or  only  a 
dormant  one,  or  the  potentialities  of  one,  at  least. 

By  what  chain,  then,  were  ancestral  treasures 
inherited.  Though  there  was  no  active  mind,  yet 
there  was  an  organ  of  mind,  a  material  sub- 
stratum— the  infant  brain — in  which  were  stored 
the  potentialities  of  mind,  ready  to  be  developed  by 
fitting  influences.  A  wonderful  organ  is  the  infant 
brain,  an  organ  in  which  are  materialized,  some- 
what, at  least,  the  tendencies  to,  or  tastes  for  knowl- 
edge, the  dispositions,  the  effects  of  the  experiences 
and  labors  of  our  ancestors  for  a  thousand  years  or 


222  TRAXSMJSSIOX   Of   CHARACTERS 

more.  The  effects  these  experiences  have  succes- 
sively bequeathed  are  principle  and  interest,  and 
have  slowly  amounted  to  that  high  intelligence 
which  lies  latent  in  the  brain  of  the  infant.  With- 
out such  a  store-house  in  which  are  treasured  up 
the  precious  culture  and  experiences  of  our  ances- 
tors, just  as  are  stored  in  our  own  brains  the  modi- 
fications wrought  by  our  own  experiences,  the  trans- 
mission of  character  of  any  kind  could  not  occur. 

As  it  is,  it  is  evident  that  a  great  part  of  the 
culture  and  inherited  experiences  of  our  ancestors 
are  wholly  lost,  lost  to  the  world  forever;  but  we 
cannot  but  believe  that  much,  much  that  is  whole- 
some and  precious,  is  saved  and  passed  on  to  pos- 
terity. 

If  this  doctrine  be  true,  even  in  a  measure  only, 
the  great  and  important  truth  which  should  ever  be 
present  in  the  minds  of  parents,  is  that  they  should 
develop  and  train  their  mental  and  moral  pozvers 
for  the  benefit  of  their  offspring,  if  not  for  their  ozvn 
good. 

As  it  is,  the  world  has  made  slow  enough 
progress  in  enlightenment^  morality  and  civiliza- 
tion. Had  \ve  inherited  all  the  intelligence,  skill 
and  morals  of  our  ancestors,  we  would  have  trans- 
cended the  limits  of  our  species,  and  would  have 
been  creatures  other  than  we  are,  notwithstanding 
the  disadvantages  might  have  more  than  offset  the 
gain.  We  hope  these  preliminary  observations,  by 
giving  our  theme  a  physical  basis,  have  prepared  the 
way  for  a  more  intelligible  consideration  of  our  sub- 
ject, the  transmission  of  acquired  character  by 
heredity. 

Professor  August  Weismann,  of  Freiburg,  has 
essayed  to  prove  that  what  biologists  call  accjuired 
character  is  not  hereditary,  and  has  made  himself 
the  leading  champion  of  this  doctrine.  Prior  to 
this,  Lamark  held  the  opposite  view.     He  believed 


TRANSMISSION    OF    CHARACTERS  223 

that  the  children  of  a  man  who  gives  himself  to 
learning  will  have  better  heads  than  if  the  father 
had  been  a  soldier  or  professional  cricketer. 

Now,  this  view  is  held  today  by  the  great  major- 
ity of  common  people,  and  yet  this  is  the  very  view 
that  a  goodly  number  of  biologists,  on  theoretical 
grounds,  have  set  themselves  to  combat.  Weismann 
confines  himself  chiefly  to  animals  and  the  modi- 
fications that  take  place  in  their  physical  structure, 
and  maintains  that  wherever  such  modifications 
descend  to  the  offspring  of  such  animals,  thev  can- 
not have  been  acquired  by  the  animals  during  their 
lives,  but  must  have  previously  existed  in  a  latent 
state  in  their  reproductive  germs,  and  have  been 
handed  down  from  ancestors  more  or  less  remote. 
Inasmuch  as  Weismann  was  an  evolutionist,  it  is 
strange  that  he  did  not  see  that  the  existence  of  such 
modifications  must  have  been  acquired  by  those 
remote  ancestors. 

Mr.  Francis  Galton  had  anticipated  Weismann 
in  the  expression  of  similar  views,  but  he  made  them 
less  absolute,  and  did  not  insist  upon  them  with  so 
great  emphasis.  He  applied  them,  too,  chiefly  to 
man,  and  dealt  with  mental  as  well  as  physical  quali- 
ties. Weismann  seemed  to  think  that,  according  to 
the  view  of  his  opponent,  a  child  of  an  accomplished 
pianist  ought  to  inherit  the  faculty  of  playing  on 
that  instrument.  Whereas  it  is  perfectly  true,  that 
the  children  of  accomplished  pianists  do  not  inherit 
the  art  of  playing  the  piano.  But  the  art  of  playing 
that  instrument  is  really  a  form  of  knowledge,  and 
no  one  has  ever  maintained  that  knowledge  can  be 
tiansmitted.  'It  is  necessary  to  distinguish  sharply 
between  knowledge  and  the  capacity  for  acquiring 
knowledge,"  so  says  Mr.  Lester  F.  Ward.  It  is  this 
latter  only  that  has  been  generally  l^elieved  to  be 
hereditary.  This  point  seems,  therefore,  to  be 
wholly    irrelevant    in    Weismann's    theory.      It    is, 


Ii24  TK.IXSMISSIOX   Of   CHARACTERS 

nevertheless,  true  that  in  England  perhaps  one-half 
uf  the  biologists  have  subscribed  to  the  Weismann 
doctrine. 

That  the  process  of  heredity  should  be  operative 
after  modifications  are  wrought  in  the  nervous  sys- 
tem by  the  mind  is  what  we  have  just  been  insisting 
on;  but  why  it  should  be  effective  only  after  the 
intellectual  part  had  lapsed  out,  as  claimed,  and 
actions  become  automatic,  we  cannot  see,  and  there 
are  but  few  followers  of  this  theory.  At  the  same 
time  these  few  admit  that  disease,  poison,  and  the 
effects  of  starvation,  may  be  transmitted. 

J.  Mark  Baldwin  and  Groose  favor  a  theory 
that  they  call  organic  selection,  meaning  thereby 
that  instinct  in  animals  is  patched  out  by  inteli- 
gence,  which  is  acquired  by  imitation  and  experi- 
ence, and  that  this  exerts  a  modifying  influence  upon 
the  nervous  system,  so  that  the  intelligence  lapses 
out,  and  that  this  modification  may  be  inherited.  But 
this  modification  is  an  acquisition,  and  the  passing 
of  it  by  inheritance  does  not  change  the  theory  of 
the  transmission  of  acquired  characters.  Whilst 
among  the  sceptical  there  are  many  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished philosophers,  nevertheless  the  Weismann 
doctrine  has  a  great  number  of  opponents  of  whom 
I  mention  only  Haeckle,  Eimer,  Nilser,  Hertroig, 
Romanes,  Herbert  Spencer,  Wundt,  Sully  and 
Ribot.  Weismann  himself,  in  1886,  admitted  that 
monads,  which  are  propogated  by  mere  division, 
may  inherit  acquired  characters.  He  also  admitted 
the  possibility  of  modifying  the  germ  plasm  by 
changing  nutriment  and  temperature. 

So  long  as  the  question  is  confined  to  the  lower 
forms  of  life,  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  defenders 
of  the  transmissibility  of  acquired  character  are 
placed  at  a  disadvantage,  but  that  is  on  account  of 
the  difficulty  introduced  by  natural  selection.  But 
when  the  human  species  is  to  be  treated,  the  tables 


TRANSMISSIOX   OF   CHARACTERS  225 

are  in  a  manner  turned.  It  is  in  the  faculties  of  the 
mind  that  we  find  really  the  strong  claims  of  those 
who  advocate  the  doctrine  of  the  inheritance  of 
acquired  qualities,  or  post-natal  increments  to  facul- 
ties already  existing.  Dr.  Wallace  believes  them  to 
consist  chiefly  of  the  mathematical,  the  esthetic ;  but 
he  also  properly  mentions  the  power  of  abstract 
reasoning,  the  metaphysical  faculty  or  talent  for 
abstruse  speculation,  and  the  moral  and  ethical 
attributes. 

Others  might  be  enumerated,  such  as  the  talents 
for  scientific  observations,  for  mechanical  inven- 
tions, and  literary  research,  and  others  still  by  which 
knowledge  has  been  increased.  These  have  become 
to  civilized  and  enlightened  man  not  only  the  most 
advantageous  of  all  his  possessions,  for  the  mind  is 
his  chief  weapon,  and  the  dominant  mark  by  which 
he  is  distinguished  from  the  animal  world  below 
him.  More  than  any  and  all  physical  distinctions 
this  constitutes  him  man. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Galton,  although  leaning 
strongly  against  the  doctrine  of  transmission  of 
acquired  qualities,  has  in  his  "Hereditary  Genius," 
and  other  works,  ably  shown  from  concrete  exam- 
ples that  high  qualities  of  mind  tend  to  run  in  par- 
ticular families,  and  has  done  much  to  disprove  the 
popular  notion  relied  on  by  Weismann.  In  this  he 
has  done  much  to  establish  the  doctrine  of  the  trans- 
mission of  acquired  characters.  In  the  same  line 
with  Galton,  M.  Alphonse  de  Condolle  has  collected 
an  additional  mass  of  facts  in  support  of  the  view 
that  talents  tend  to  persist  in  certain  families,  or 
lines  of  descent.  But  aside  entirely  from  all 
abstruse  theories  as  to  how  heredity  takes  place,  we 
have  at  least  the  following  general  facts  which  can 
be  best  explained  by  the  theory  of  the  transmission 
of  acquired  qualities,  viz :  a  large  number  of  greatly 
specialized  mental  attributes  which  have  made  their 


Ii20  TRJXSMJSSIOX    Of   ClIARACTLiRS 

appearance  in  man,  and  wliicli  themselves  are  clearly 
hereditary,  notwithstanding  parental  crossing". 

**lf  Professor  Weismann  and  his  followers  are 
right,  education  has  no  value  for  the  future  of  man- 
kind, and  its  benefits  are  confined  exclusively  to  the 
generation  receiving  it.  But  the  belief,  though 
vague,  has  been  somewhat  general  that  a  part,  at 
least,  of  what  is  gained  in  the  direction  of  develop- 
ing and  strengthening  the  faculties  of  the  mind, 
througli  their  life-long  exercise  in  special  fields,  is 
permanently  preserved  to  the  race  by  hereditary 
transmission  to  posterity  of  the  acquired  increment. 
We  have  seen  that  all  the  facts  of  history  and  of 
personal  observation  sustain  this  comforting  popular 
belief,  and  until  the  doctors  of  science  shall  cease  to 
differ  on  this  point  and  shall  reduce  the  laws  of 
heredity  to  a  degree  of  exactness  which  shall  amount 
to  something  more  like  a  demonstration  than  the 
current  speculation,  it  may  perhaps  be  as  w^ell  to 
continue  for  a  time  to  hug  this  delusion,"  so  says 
Mr.  Ward. 

Of  course,  if  it  could  be  demonstrated  how  much 
of  our  characters  were  inherited,  and  what  particu- 
lars were  wholly  acquired,  there  would  be  no  room 
for  a  paper  of  this  kind.  Lombroso,  in  an  article  on 
the  heredity  of  acquired  characteristics,  says  this  is 
an  important  subject  in  aiding  us  to  decide  whether 
we  can  profit  organically,  so  to  speak,  by  the  actions 
of  our  fathers,  i.  e.,  whether  the  labor  of  the  past 
can  be  accumulated  and  transformed  into  labor  that 
may  be  called  organic,  or  whether  such  labor  must 
be  W'holly  lost.  Says  he :  "Especially  during  the 
last  five  years,  every  new  publication  referring  to 
this  subject  has  given  stronger  evidence  of  the 
heredity  of  acquired  traits,  thus  tending  to  support 
Herbert  Spencer  against  Weismann.  I  have  gone 
a  step  further  in  which  I  show  that  even  our  ges- 
tures are  inherited  from  our  ancestors  of  thousands 


CF 

TRANSMISSION   OF   CHARACTERS  227 

of  years  ago.  It  suffices  to  mention  the  attitude  of 
prayer,  by  which  the  conquered  stretch  out  their 
hands  and  bend  their  knees,  to  show  that  they  are 
unarmed  and  ready  to  allow  themselves  to  be  bound, 
endeavor  thus  to  disarm  the  ferocity  of  the  conquer- 
ors. Now,  this  gesture,  which  we  see  repeated  so 
many  times  in  the  Egyptian  and  Chaldean  sculpture, 
I  have  seen  reproduced  instinctively  by  one  of  my 
own  children  not  yet  two  years  old,  when  speechless 
from  illness,  who  invoked  our  pity  by  gestures  never 
learned. 

"Moreover,"  says  he,  "does  not  the  North 
American  offer  the  best  evidence  of  the  heredity  of 
newly  acquired  character,  both  physical  and 
psychical?  The  skin  has  become  darker,  the  orbits 
larger,  the  neck  longer,  the  head  smaller  and  more 
rounded,  the  fingers  longer  than  those  of  his  Anglo- 
Saxon  fathers ;  and  as  to  his  moral  nature,  it  is  well 
known  how  much  he  has  changed  the  British  type. 
The  overwhelming  reverence  of  the  English  for 
tradition  and  historic  formalism  has  been  replaced 
by  a  true  passion  for  modernity,  and  these  traits  are 
transmitted  by  heredity." 

But  it  is  easier  to  find  facts  which  prove  that 
physical  characteristics  acquired  have  been  heredi- 
tarily transmitted.  Take  first  the  fact  that  in  Massa- 
chusetts a  certain  breed  of  sheep,  known  as  the  Otto, 
rose  from  a  short-legged  lamb.  It  was  supposed 
that  this  short-leggedness  would  be  an  advantage,  in 
preventing  them  from  leaping  hedges  which  abound 
in  that  neighborhood ;  so  this  characteristic  was 
perpetuated  by  careful  breeding. 

Take  next  the  mutilation  of  cutting  off  a  tail — a 
mutilation  which  is  generally  not  transmitted.  Yet 
a  certain  number  of  cats  were  exhibited  in  Germany 
sometime  ago  without  tails.  These  cats  inherited 
their  taillessness  from  the  mother,  which  had  lost 
hers  by  the  passage  of  a  cart-wheel  over  it.     It  is 


228  TKANSMJSSIOX   Of   CHARACTERS 

well  known  that  there  is  a  tailless  race  of  cats  in 
the  isle  of  Alan.  As  to  the  first  origin  of  the  tail- 
lessness  of  the  Manx  cats,  as  they  are  called,  we  are 
ignorant,  but  know  that  the  anomoly  has  been  trans- 
mitted until  they  constitute  the  dormant  race  in  that 
island. 

A  few  years  ago  a  case  occurred  near  Jena, 
Germany,  in  which,  by  a  careless  slamming  of  a 
stable  door,  the  tail  of  a  bull  was  wrenched  off,  and 
the  calves  begotten  by  this  bull  were  born  without 
a  tail. 

A  very  striking  instance  is  furnished  by  the 
hornless  cattle  of  Paraguay,  in  South  America.  A 
special  race  of  oxen  is  there  bred  which  is  entirely 
W'ithout  horns.  It  is  descended  from  a  single  bull 
which  was  born  without  horns  as  a  result  of  some 
unknow^n  cause.  All  the  descendants  of  this  bull 
produced  with  a  horned  cow  were  entirely  without 
horns.  At  present  this  hornless  race  has  almost 
entirely  supplanted  the  horned  cattle  in  Paraguay. 

The  next  case  I  will  cite  is  that  given  by  Dr. 
Struthers,  to-wit,  an  example  of  hereditary  digital 
variation :  "Esther  P.,  who  had  six  fingers  on  one 
handj  bequeathed  this  malformation  along  some 
lines  of  her  descendants  for  two,  tlxree  and  four 
generations." 

The  last  of  the  illustrations  of  this  nature  I  will 
mention  is  the  genesis  of  an  acquired  characteristic 
which  has  become  hereditary  in  the  race :  It  is  that 
sort  of  fatty  appendage  attached  to  the  rump  and 
flanks  of  the  Hottentot  women,  on  which  their 
infants  are  supported,  while  they  themselves  are 
busied  in  work.  Evidence  on  this  point  shows  that 
in  the  Hottentot,  fatty  tissue  abounds  all  over  the 
body,  forming  a  new  appendage  where  pressure  and 
irritation  are  greatest. 

But,  after  all,  a  single  proof  will  suffice  to  show 
the  acquirement  of  physical   characteristics.     Civil- 


TRANSMISSION   OF   CHARACTERS  229 

ized  man  has  acquired  in  the  cerebral  surface,  the 
physical  center  of  reading,  which,  in  apoplexy,  is 
paralyzed,  causing  readnig-power  to  disappear. 
"Now  this  center,"  so  says  Lombroso,  ''has  posi- 
tively been  acquired  within  historic  time;  it  cer- 
tainly is  not  found  yet  in  savages." 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  speech  center,  the 
third  left  frontal  convolution,  since  everything  goes 
to  prove  that  the  first  man  had  no  language,  just  as 
the  new-born  child  has  no  language,  and  the  Hotten- 
tots and  the  Weddahs  have  but  very  imperfect  ones. 

Where  can  be  found  stronger  evidence  that  there 
are  acquired  physical  characteristics,  which  are 
transmitted  by  inheritance? 

Weismann  met  with  great  opposition.  One  of 
his  most  noted  opponents  was  Herbert  Spencer,  who 
engaged  him  in  fierce  controversy  and  showed  up 
his  fallacies  greatly  to  his  disadvantage.  They 
engaged  in  hot  debates,  largely  on  account  of  the 
structures  of  lower  animals  and  plants,  overlooking 
to  a  great  extent  the  higher  characteristics  of  man. 
"The  circumstance,"  said  Spencer,  ''that  the  tend- 
ency to  repetition  of  like  forms  in  heredity  is,  in  a 
great  degree,  qualified  by  the  tendency  to  variation. 
No  two  plants  are  indistinquishable,  and  no  two  ani- 
mals are  without  differences.  Variation  is 
co-existent  with  heredity." 

Examples  of  this  statement  are  too  numerous 
to  mention.  The  experiences  of  agriculturists, 
gardeners  and  breeders  of  animals  show  us,  in  a 
marked  manner,  the  hereditary  transmission  of 
small  differences.  But  the  clearest  proof  that  struc- 
tural alterations  by  alterations  of  function  are  in- 
herited occurs  when  the  alterations  are  morbid. 
Witness  the  result  of  Brown-Sequards  experiments 
on  guinea-pigs,  showing  that  those  which  had  been 
artifically  made  epileptic  had  offspring  which  were 
epileptic. 

16- 


230  TK.IXSMISSIOX   OF   CHARACiERS 

i  will  barely  mention  disease,  although  it  is  a 
strung  point  in  the  premises,  for  we  all  know  full 
well  that  diseases  are  hereditary,  notwithstanding 
they  may  have  been  acquired  by  the  immediate 
parents,  such  as  Consumption,  Syphilis,  Rheuma- 
tism; also  nervous  diseases,  such  as  Epilepsy, 
Chorea  and  Insanity.  We  will  not  dwell  upon  the 
hereditary  character  of  disease,  as  there  are  more 
pleasant  aspects  to  our  subject.  Spencer  proved  a 
strong  advocate  of  the  transmission  of  acquired 
characters  in  man.  He  believed  it  to  be  a  necessary 
part  of  general  evolution.  He  thought  the  inheri- 
tance of  the  best  qualities  of  our  ancestors  necessary 
to  carry  us  upward  in  our  career  of  evolution. 
Either  there  has  been  inheritance  of  acquired  char- 
acters or  there  has  been  no  evolution.  Even  Weis- 
mann  admits  that  the  average  of  mental  power  is 
increasing,  although  very  gradually.  How  he  could 
have  conceded  this,  holding  the  views  he  did,  I  can- 
not for  the  Ife  of  me  imagine.  It  was  to  Spencer's 
influence  that  many  phychologists  were  confirmed  in 
the  doctrine  he  advocated,  although  many  of  them 
were  of  his  opinion  prior  to  his  teaching,  versus  that 
of  the  biologists.  Weismann  speaks  of  a  pre-dis- 
position  in  the  germ  as  though  it  were  not  an 
acquired  tendency ;  as  though  it  w^ere  not  equivalent 
to  what  his  opponents  claim. 

In  later  years,  however,  Weismann  has  made 
great  concessions.  Mr.  Ward  says  of  him  :  ''I  trust 
it  has  been  sufficient,  chiefly  from  his  own  words, 
that  in  elaborating  his  complicated  theory,  Professor 
Weismann  has,  greatly  to  his  credit,  conceded  all 
the  essential  points  in  the  long  controversy  as  to  the 
inheritance  of  acquired  characters."  He  has  proven 
a  heroic  champion  of  his  cause  and  fought  bravely 
for  its  maintenance.  He  certainly  had  a  profound 
knowledge  of  morphology,  but  he  allowed  himself, 
from    theoretical    reasons,    to    be    led    astray    over 


TRANSMISSION   OF   CHARACTERS  231 

flimsy  questions  concerning  the  lower  animals, 
insects  and  plants.  Hence,  later  in  life,  under  the 
scourgings  of  Spencer,  Carl  H.  Eigenmann,  Lester 
F.  Ward,  and  others,  he  was  forced  to  make  such 
concessions  as  were  almost  equivalent  to  a  complete 
surrender  of  his  theory. 

Turning  again  to  mental  characteristics,  Profes- 
sor Maudsley  says:  "When  the  mental  phenomena 
of  one  of  the  lowest  savages  are  contrasted  with 
those  of  an  intelligent,  civilized  man,  a  very  wide 
difference  is  perceived;  and  if  a  savage  chiljl  and  a 
child  of  civilized  parents  were  subjected  to  the  same 
external  conditions  from  the  first  moment  of  life  to 
the  age  of  fullest  vigor,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that 
there  would  still  be  a  vast  difference  between  their 
mental  phenomena.  It  is,  then,  a  question  whence 
the  different  degrees  of  value  possessed  by  one  indi- 
vidual over  another  has  been  derived. 

''The  obvious  answer  is  that  the  original  super- 
iority of  mental  organization  is  the  result  of  inheri- 
tance. The  savage  has  a  less  capacity  of  acquiring 
knowledge  than  the  civilized  man,  because  his  brain 
is  fashioned  after  the  less-developed  type  of  the 
brains  of  his  forefathers,  while  the  civilized  man 
inherits  the  superior  organization  and  capacity  of 
the  brains  of  his  forefathers.  The  European  inherits, 
for  instance,  from  twenty  to  thirty  cubic  inches 
more  brain  than  the  Papuan.  Thus  it  happens  that 
out  of  savages  arise  at  length  our  Newtons  and 
Shakespeares.  The  civilized  man  has  a  nervous  sub- 
stratum in  his  convolution  which  the  savage  has 
not." 

We  have  no  more  reason  to  doubt  this  than  to 
doubt  that  the  pointer  dog  is  indebted  to  inheritance 
for  the  facility  with  which  it  learns  to  point. 

Half  a  century  ago,  Mr.  Knight  made  trial  with 
some  pointer  pups,  having  taken  great  care  that 
when    they    were    first    taken    into    the    field    they 


2S2  TR.IXSMISSIOX   OF   CHARACTLiKS 

received  no  instructions  from  the  older  dogs.  The 
very  first  day,  one  of  the  pups  stood  trembling  with 
excitement,  its  eyes  fixed,  and  all  its  muscles 
strained,  pointing  at  the  partridges,  as  its  ancestors 
had  been  taught  to  do. 

Mr.  Lewes  gives  a  case  in  point:  He  had  a 
puppy  taken  from  its  mother  at  six  weeks,  who, 
although  never  taught  to  beg  (an  accomplishment 
his  mother  had  been  taught),  spontaneously  took  to 
begging  for  everything  he  wanted,  when  about  eight 
months  old.  He  would  beg  for  food,  to  be  let  out 
of  the  room,  and  one  day  he  was  found  opposite  a 
rabbit  hutch  begging  for  rabbits. 

The  taming  by  man  of  the  animals  which  are 
now  domesticated,  without  doubt  cost  him  great 
pains  originally,  and  had  there  been  no  tendency  to 
the  fixation  of  acquired  modifications  by  hereditary 
transmission,  he  would  never  have  succeeded  in 
domesticating  them.  Darwin  believed  that  the 
trained  habits  of  dogs  and  horses,  the  tameness  of 
the  rabbit,  and  other  domestic  animals,  were  due  to 
the  direct  and  transmitted  effects  of  man's  contact. 

All  the  mental  endowments  in  which  we  surpass 
our  ancestors,  and  all  the  superiority  of  cerebral 
organization  which  such'  endowments  imply,  have 
been  acquired  by  the  accumulated  effects  of  experi- 
ence and  their  transmission  through  generations. 
How  could  we  have  inherited  the  organ  of  mind 
without  inheriting  all  the  possibilities  that  go  with 
that  organ,  acquired  as  well  as  original  ? 

Like  remarks  may  be  made  of  man's  emotional 
nature.  Beside  the  emotional  nature  of  his  kind, 
he  inherits,  also,  the  more  special  nature  of  his  own 
immediate  ancestors.  His  father  and  mother,  his 
grandfather  and  grandmother,  are  latent  or  declare 
themselves  in  him.  It  is  not  by  virtue  of  education 
so  much  as  by  virtue  of  inheritance  that  he  is  brave 
or  timid,  generous  or  selfish,  prudent  or  reckless, 


TRANSMISSION   OF   CHARACTERS  233 

quick  or  placid  in  temper;  the  ground  tone  of  his 
character  is  original  in  him,  it  is  the  inherited 
nature.  It  is  more  important  what  a  man's  father 
or  mother  was  than  what  his  school  master  was. 

The  acquired  characters  of  his  ancestors,  mental, 
moral  and  bodily,  may  have  been  a  result  of  relig- 
ion, to  a  great  extent,  and  I  certainly  believe  such 
inheritable. 

As  to  manual  dexterity,  it  is  alleged  that  the 
children  of  skilled  artisans  are,  as  a  rule,  more  apt 
at  petty  manipulations  than  the  children  of  ordinary 
laborers,  and  that  hence,  in  the  population  of  cer- 
tain towns  (Birmingham,  England,  for  example,) 
have  an  advantage  over  other  towns  in  point  of 
manufacture. 

I  wish  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  the  speed  of 
trotting  horses  is  transmitted.  Horse  fanciers  know 
this  full  well  and  take  pains  that  the  breed  is  kept 
pure,  and  they  are  willing  to  pay  large  money  for 
fine  blood,  feeling  sure  that  the  speed  will  go  with  it. 

Cows  are  bred  for  the  acquired  character  of  giv- 
ing a  certain  quantity  of  milk.  The  wonderful 
variety  of  dogs,  hogs,  pigeons  and  barnyard  fowls 
is  in  evidence  on  this  point,  for  the  reason  that  the 
breeding  animals  and  fowls  were  selected  on  account 
of  their  acquired  characters. 

When  we  consider  the  real,  low-down  condition 
of  savages  of  today,  although  they  are  rarely  real 
representatives  of  primitive  men,  we  conclude  that 
the  first  men  of  the  earth  had  the  barest  rudiments, 
or  adumbrations,  of  mind,  so  that,  apart  from  his 
physical  organization,  all  that  he  had  was  acquired. 
According  to  the  evolutionist,  even  his  physical 
frame  was  acquired,  so  that  if  we  have  inherited 
anything,  it  was  of  an  acquired  character.  And  it 
seems  to  me  if  we  preclude  the  inheritance  of 
acquired  characters,  we  preclude  everything,  except 
a  minute  unit  of  protoplasm  smaller  than  the  micro- 


234  TR.  I X  SMI  SSI  OX     Of    CIIARACTURS 

scope  reveals,  and  this,  too,  in  accordance  with 
W'eismann's  evolutionary  views. 

But  do  we  inherit  anything  of  a  mental  or  moral 
nature?  If  not,  we  would  not  have  made  much 
progress  on  the  condition  of  the  savage.  We  may 
not  have  inherited  as  much  as  many  believe,  but  we 
are  persuaded  that  it  was  much.  We  do  not  claim 
to  have  inherited  knowledge  or  morals,  but  a  tend- 
ency thereto,  or  aptitude  therefor;  an  aptitude  or 
talent  for  the  pulpit,  the  bar,  for  medicine,  for  the 
stage,  and  a  thousand  useful  and  profitable  employ- 
ments. Fortunate  is  he  who  is  born  with  a  procliv- 
ity to  a  useful  vocation. 

Darwin  maintained  that  if  variations  were 
adapted  to  external  conditions  and  gave  the  animal 
an  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  they 
would  be  transmitted  by  heredity.  We  will,  there- 
fore, indulge  in  gratitude  to  the  long  line  of  our 
ancestors  for  what  we  are,  provided,  of  course,  we 
have  some  redeeming  qualities  in  us;  some  intelli- 
gence and  good  dispositions.  For  there  is  born  in 
man  an  essence  that  makes  the  kind  of  being  he  is. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  established  beyond  doubt 
that  degeneracy  and  acquired  evil  dispositions  are 
transmitted  by  heredity.  W^e  know  with  almost 
equal  certainty  that  criminality  and  wickedness  are. 
"Where  did  the  crime  begin?"  asked  the  warden  of 
a  prison.  "In  my  ancestors,"  was  the  reply.  "In 
me  their  weakness  sunk  into  felony." 

We  know,  also,  that  vicious  and  criminal  pro- 
pensities recur  in  some  families,  as  a  rule,  with  some 
exceptions  and  in  varying  degrees  of  depravity.  A 
most  remarkable  example  of  this  form  of  heredity 
has  been  traced  through  six  generations  by  Dr. 
Dugdale,  in  the  descendants  of  a  depraved  woman 
of  the  State  of  New  York,  named  Margaret  Jukes. 
Of  709  individuals,  the  great  majority  consisted  of 
murderers,  thieves  and  idiots. 


TRANSMISSION    OF    CHARACTERS  235 

If  wickedness  and  degeneracy  are  transmissible 
by  heredity,  and  good  disposition  and  talent  are  not, 
then  nature  discriminates  in  favor  of  the  former  as 
against  the  latter — a  slander  we  cannot  believe.  \\t 
cannot  conceive  of  anything  that  would  render  us 
more  discontent  with  the  arrangement  of  earthly 
affairs  than  to  beheve  such  discrimination  is  shown. 

It  would  make  of  a  just  God  one  who  is  partial 
to  evil.  Therefore,  give  us,  by  all  means,  the  trans- 
mission of  acquired  characters  by  inheritance,  good 
as  well  as  evil,  a  fair  mixture  of  both,  for  both  are 
necessary  to  the  development  of  our  characters,  the 
good  for  its  direct  effect,  the  evil  to  promote  the 
good  by  affording  us  a  combat,  wherein  moral 
strength  may  be  developed;  without  this  combat 
there  could  be  no  moral  heroism,  and  without  the 
sight  of  it  going  on,  life  would  be  flat  in  the  extreme. 

To  repeat :  in  order  that  the  doctrine  of  this 
thesis  may  operate  effectively,  it  is  incumbent  upon 
parents  to  improve  themselves  for  the  benefit  of  their 
posterity. 


Herbert  Spencer 


As  I  have  made  frequent  quotations  from  the 
writings  of  Herbert  Spencer,  it  seems  to  me  not 
inappropriate  to  set  forth  the  manner  of  man  he 
was. 

He  was  born  April  2y,  1820,  in  Derby,  Eng- 
land, a  town  which  has  since  become  quite  a  manu- 
facturing center.  His  father  was  opposed  to  the 
repetition  of  family  names,  claiming  that  it  was 
foolish,  as  a  name  was  intended  only  for  identifica- 
tion. His  uncle  sent  a  letter  to  the  child's  father 
with  some  verses  by  a  young  poet  named  Herbert 
Knowles,  and  as  the  father  was  pleased  with  the 
verses,  this  led  to  the  choice  of  the  name  Herbert. 
There  were  several  other  children,  but  all  died  in 
infancy. 

Herbert  Spencer,  in  mature  life,  believed 
strongly,  and  rightly  so,  in  the  transmission  by 
heredity  of  parental  characteristics,  both  inborn  in 
the  parents  and  acquired  by  them.  I  shall  dwell 
somewhat  at  length  upon  the  main  traits  of  his 
parents : 

His  father  gave  some  sign  of  inventive  ability, 
and  also  artistic  perception.  In  these  respects  his 
son  was  his  inferior,  although  he  did  invent  an 
invalid  bed,  a  fishing-rod  joint,  and  some  kind  of 
binding  pins  for  holding  sheet  music  in  place. 

Though  his  father  was  not  robust,  he  had  a  con- 
stitution which  was  well  balanced.  He  was  a  fine 
walker,  so  that  even  after  he  had  passed  seventy, 
ladies  would  turn  round  on  the  streets  to  watch  him. 

236 


HERBERT    SPENCER  237 

He  was  a  man  of  very  limited  means,  and  followed 
school-teaching  for  a  living.  There  was  a  time 
when  his  health  broke  down,  and  he  engaged  in  the 
manufacture  of  lace,  owning  lace  machines  with  his 
brothers.  This  continued  for  three  years,  during 
which  time  he  lost  money,  after  which  he  returned 
to  teaching  school  again. 

His  father  would  never  take  off  his  hat  to  any- 
one, no  matter  of  what  rank,  and,  further,  he  could 
not  be  induced  to  address  anyone  as  Esquire  or  as 
Reverend.  All  his  letters  were  addressed  Mr.- 
Always  he  would  step  out  of  the  way  to  kick  a  stone 
off  the  pavement  lest  someone  should  trip  over  it. 
He  would  never  put  on  any  sign  of  mourning,  even 
for  father  or  mother. 

The  father's  career  as  a  teacher  dated  from  boy- 
hood. In  dealing  with  transgressors,  his  method 
was  this,  i,  e.,  to  form  some  of  the  boys  into  a  jury 
and  to  have  the  offense  investigated  in  a  judicial 
manner,  finally  leaving  them  to  decide  the  punish- 
ment.    Generally  he  found  it  needful  to  mitigate  it. 

Absolute  punctuality  in  his  teaching  appoint- 
ments was  one  of  his  traits — a  trait  naturally  result- 
ing from  that  regard  for  other's  claims,  which  he 
displayed  in  all  ways. 

If  he  saw  boys  quarreling,  he  stopped  to  expos- 
tulate, and  he  could  never  pass  a  man  who  was  ill- 
treating  his  horse  without  trying  to  make  him 
behave  better. 

Great  firmness  in  carrying  out  what  he  consid- 
ered to  be  right  was  a  marked  trait.  He  rarely  ever 
yielded. 

He  never  changed  his  fashion  of  dress,  however 
old  it  might  seem. 

Respecting  his  intellectual  powers,  it  may  be 
said  unusual  keenness  of  the  senses — the  basis  of  all 
intelligence — characterized  him.  Improvement  was 
his  watchword  always  and  everywhere. 


ZiS  11  UK  HURT    S  PEN  CUR 

He  could  not  dispatch  a  note  concerning  an 
appointment  without  first  writing  a  rough  draft  and 
afterward  correctly  copying  it.  He  had  a  great  deal 
of  passion  for  reforming  the  world,  and  was  ever 
thinking  of  self-improvement,  or  of  the  improve- 
ment of  others. 

He  suffered  from  chronic  irritabiHty  consequent 
on  his  nervous  disorder,  which  continued  through- 
out Hfe. 

He  wrote  one  book  called  "Inventional  Geom- 
etry," which  required  great  labor,  and  was  very 
useful  to  the  student. 

Concerning  his  mother,  it  may  be  said  that  she 
was  brought  up  a  Methodist,  and  adhered  to  that 
belief  throughout  life;  but  she  simply  accepted  and 
retained  the  beliefs  given  to  her  in  early  days,  and 
would  have  similarly  accepted  and  retained  any 
other  set  of  beliefs.  She  never  passed  a  criticism 
on  a  pulpit  utterance,  or  expressed  any  independent 
judgment  on  religious,  ethical  or  political  questions. 

The  trait  especially  named  in  his  mother  before 
her  marriage  was  her  sweetness.  Generally  patient, 
it  was  but  rarely  that  she  manifested  irritation,  and 
then  in  a  very  moderate  manner.  A  trait  which 
injuriously  co-operated  with  this  was  an  utter 
absence  of  tact.  She  was  too  simple-minded  to 
think  of  maneuvering. 

The  subordination  element  of  religion  was  more 
dominant  in  her  than  in  his  father,  so  that  the  sense 
of  duty  was  very  powerful.  Of  his  mother's  intel- 
lect, there  is  nothing  special  to  be  said.  There  is 
ground  for  believing  that  she  had  a  sound  judgment 
in  respect  of  ordinary  affairs — sounder  than  his 
father's. 

Her  son's  plans  and  proceedings  she  always 
criticised  discouragingly,  and  urged  the  adoption  of 
some  common-place  career.  This,  doubtless,  was 
owing  to  the  financial  failure  of  her  father. 


HERBERT    SPENCER  239 

She  had  no  interest  in  nature,  and  never  gath- 
ered any  scientific  ideas.  Briefly  characterized,  she 
was  of  ordinary  intelHgence  and  high  moral  nature. 

There  remains  only  to  name  the  one  great  draw- 
back of  his  father,  and  that  is  he  was  not  kind  to 
her.  Exacting  and  inconsiderate,  he  did  not  habit- 
ually display  that  sympathy  which  should  character- 
ize the  marital  relation. 

He  held  that  every  one  should  speak  clearly,  and 
that  those  who  did  not  ought  to  suffer  the  resulting 
evil.  Hence,  if  he  did  not  understand  some  ques- 
tions his  wife  put,  he  would  remain  silent,  letting  it 
go  unanswered.  He  continued  this  course  all 
through  life;  there  resulted  no  improvement.  Of 
course,  such  behavior  tended  towards  chronic  alien- 
ation. 

The  causes  which  co-operated  in  producing  this 
conduct,  so  at  variance  with  his  usual  character, 
were,  first,  a  great  deal  of  passion  for  reforming  the 
world.  The  other  cause  was  chronic  irritability, 
consequent  to  his  nervous  disorder,  which  set  in 
some  two  or  three  years  after  marriage  and  contin- 
ued during  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  was  conscious  of 
this  abnormal  lack  of  control  over  his  temper;  but, 
as  unhappily  his  son  could  testify  from  personal 
experience,  consciousness  of  such  lack  did  not 
exclude  the  evil  or  mitigate  it. 

YOUNG    spencer's    CHILDHOOD 

His  father,  owing  to  ill  health,  became  very 
petulent  and  irritable,  which  checked  that  geniality 
of  behavior,  or  which  fosters  the  affections  and 
brings  out  in  children  the  higher  traits  of  nature. 
Had  he  retained  good  health,  his  son's  education, 
furthermore,  would  have  been  much  better  than 
it  was. 

Finally,  his  father's  health  became  such  that  he 
was  compelled  to  give  up  teaching,  and  moved  off 


240  HERBERT    SFEXCER 

to  a  place  called  New  Bedford,  adjacent  to  a  tract 
of  wild  land,  where  his  son  spent  the  remaining  part 
of  his  childhood.  There  was  a  certain  charm  of 
adventure  in  exploring  the  narrow,  turf-covered 
tracks,  running  hither  and  thither  into  all  their 
nooks.  Then  there  w^ere  blue-bells  to  be  picked 
from  among  the  prickly  branches,  which  were 
flecked  here  and  there  with  fragments  of  wool  left 
by  passing  sheep. 

His  father,  thinking  he  w^as  not  constitutionally 
strong,  allowed  him  to  pass  the  greater  part  of  this 
period  without  the  ordinary  lesson-learning.  He 
concluded  that  his  son  ought  not  to  be  subject  to 
school  discipline  at  an  early  age. 

They  resided  at  New  Bedford  three  years,  then 
moved  back  to  Derby,  where  they  lived  during  the 
rest  of  the  father's  life.  Here  his  father  continued 
to  teach,  though  only  giving  private  lessons.  Here- 
tofore life  as  a  boy  continued  for  some  time  to  be 
comparatively  unrestrained. 

When  ten  years  old,  there  was  one  out-door 
activity  which  partook  of  an  intellectual  character, 
viz.:  the  pursuit  of  entomology.  A  fondness  for 
the  study  of  nature  in  all  of  its  varied  manifestations 
was  an  early  developed  characteristic,  and  in  long 
country  rambles  after  specimens  for  his  herbarium 
and  entomological  collections,  many  a  delightful 
half-holiday  w^as  passed.  His  father  encouraged 
him  to  make  drawings  of  the  insects  he  caught.  In 
some  cases  he  added  discriptions  of  them.  Initi- 
ated thus  naturally,  he  practiced  drawing  through- 
out boyhood  to  a  greater  or  less  extent. 

Turning  to  more  purely  intellectual  amusements, 
the  fact  may  be  named  that  he  w^as  greatly  given  to 
castle-building.  Along  w^th  this  passion  may  be 
named  the  reading  of  fiction,  of  which  he  became 
very  fond.  This  was  when  he  was  not  over  seven 
years  of  age. 


HBRBBRT    SPBNCBR  241 

His  health  at  this  time  was  quite  satisfactory. 
The  most  marked  moral  trait  was  the  disregard  of 
authority.  This  continued,  notwithstanding  perpet- 
ual scoldings. 

Concerning  intellectual  traits,  it  may  be 
remarked  that  then,  as  always,  his  memory  was 
rather  below  par  than  above.  To  get  a  lesson  by 
heart  was  almost  intolerable,  and  he  evinced  an 
awkward  dislike  to  accepting  statements  merely 
because  they  were  set  down  in  books. 

A  related  fact  is  that  throughout  boyhood,  as 
in  after  life,  he  could  not  bear  prolonged  reading. 
At  the  same  time,  general  information  was  picked 
up  by  him  with  considerable  facility. 

With  regard  to  the  intellectual  culture  he 
received  during  boyhood,  it  may  be  said  that  his 
father,  being  unable  personally  to  conduct  his  edu- 
cation, sent  him  to  a  day  school,  the  first  being  that 
of  a  Mr.  Mather.  He  was  a  very  ordinary  kind  of 
teacher,  who  had  no  power  of  interesting  his  pupils 
in  what  they  were  taught.  In  repeating  lessons, 
Herbert  was  habitually  inefficient.  If  he  ever  said 
a  lesson  correctly,  it  was  certainly  very  rare.  He 
was  exceedingly  unwilling  to  learn  the  Latin  gram- 
mar. He  was  soon  sent  to  his  uncle's  school,  which 
was  relatively  good,  and  led  to  some  progress. 

His  miscellaneous  intellectual  training  was 
favorable.  He  was  a  frequent  listener  to  discus- 
sions. His  uncle  or  others  who  came  to  their  house 
always  got  into  conversation  with  his  father  of 
more  or  less  instructive  kinds — now  on  politics, 
now  on  religion,  now  on  scientific  matters,  and  now 
on  cjuestions  of  right  and  wrong. 

As  at  Hinton  Charter  House,  where  his  uncle 
lived,  a  considerable  portion  of  his  youth  was  passed, 
something  under  this  head  seems  called  for :  The 
daily  routine  was  not  a  trying  one.  In  the  morning 
Euclid  and  Latin,  in  the  afternoon  commonly  gar- 


242  llliKbLHiT    SPliXCUR 

deiiing  or  sometimes  a  walk,  while  in  the  evening 
reading,  with  occasional  chess.  His  aversion  to  lin- 
gnistic  stndies  still  continued.  He  also  studied  both 
French  and  Greek,  but  his  progress  was  extremely 
small. 

A  letter  from  his  uncle  to  his  father  says : 
"Herbert  has  learnt  only  twenty-four  propositions 
of  Sixth  book  in  a  fortnight,  when  he  could  easily 
have  learned  the  whole  book  in  a  week."  And  he 
should  have  said  he  knew  nothing  of  English  gram- 
mar. After  three  years  spent  at  Hinton  his  school 
days  closed.  He  was  then  only  sixteen  years  of 
age — an  age  at  which  mental  development  just 
fairly  begins — and  there  was  yet  nothing  to  fore- 
shadow the  greatness  of  the  man  that  was  to  follow. 
We  have  devoted  considerable  space  to  his  boyhood, 
youth  and  school  preparation,  because  this  is  gen- 
erally the  period  that  determines  the  man,  but  in 
this  case  the  old  theory,  that  development  must  take 
place  in  youth  or  not  at  all,  seems  to  have  suffered 
refutation,  showing  that  genius  may  be  of  delayed 
development.  It  also  affords  encouragement  to 
those  whose  early  education  has  been  neglected. 

After  he  left  school,  fourteen  years  elapsed 
before  anything  of  consequence  occurred  to  arouse 
his  mental  development.  This  was  the  writing  of 
his  first  book,  known  as  ''Social  Statics,"  he  beingr 
then  nearly  thirty  years  of  age.  The  writing  of  this 
book  gave  Spencer  himself  an  unmistakable  revela- 
tion of  his  own  powers.  It  is  true,  he  gained  some 
experience  as  a  railroad  engineer,  and  in  short  terms 
as  a  writer  for  newspapers  and  at  unsuccessful 
inventions,  but  the  time  was  poorly  spent. 

He  claimed  in  this  time  to  have  gained  some 
experience  of  men,  which  was  worth  something, 
and  of  the  world,  both  animate  and  inanimate. 

A  consoling  thought  with  him  was  that  academic 
training,  as  carried  on,  implies  a  forcing  of  the  mind 


HERBERT    SPENCER  243 

into  shapes  it  would  not  otherwise  have  taken — 
implies  a  bending  of  the  shoots  out  of  their  lines  of 
spontaneous  growth  into  conformity  with  a  pat- 
tern— so  that  in  some  cases  the  knowledge  gained 
by  academic  training  is  of  less  value  than  the 
original  cost.  In  this  position,  he  was  confirmed  by 
the  statement  of  Edison,  that  in  his  establishment 
college-bred  men  were  of  no  use,  which  is  contrary 
to  general  experience.  He  held  that  the  established 
systems  of  education  encourages  submissive  recep- 
tivity instead  of  independent  activity. 

During  the  revision  of  his  first  book,  he  discov- 
ered that  after  a  lapse  of  time  from  the  writing  of 
a  thing,  corrections  become  much  easier.  Also  the 
fact  that  the  bodily  health  plays  an  important  part 
in  correcting.  He  says  on  one  occasion  he  took  up 
a  chapter,  and  after  reading  it,  said,  ''Good;  that 
will  do  very  well,"  and  then  in  another  mood  he 
re-read  the  same,  and  laid  it  down  discontentedly. 

After  writing  his  first  book  he  spent  an  idle  year, 
even  reading  but  little,  as  was  his  custom. 

After  his  second  book,  which  was  when  he  was 
thirty-six  years  of  age  (an  age  prior  to  which  most 
authors  do  their  best  work),  he  lost  eighteen  months 
on  account  of  poor  health,  doing  nothing  but  trying 
to  recover. 

I  will  not  attempt  a  criticism  of  any  of  his  writ- 
ings, as  I  will  have  enough  to  do  with  the  man  him- 
self;  besides,  this  has  been  done  by  able  men.  We 
regard  him  as  a  genius,  which,  in  our  opinion,  means 
an  abnormal  man.  This  is  showm  by  his  originality, 
his  forgetfulness,  his  abnormal  sensitiveness  to 
noises,  his  nervous  break-downs,  and  his  persistent 
sleeplessness.  His  life  was  pure.  He  was  devoted 
to  truth  and  usefulness,  and  his  character  was 
wholly  free  from  envy  and  malice  (though  not  from 
contempt),  and  from  the  perverse  egoism  that  so 
often  goes  with  greatness. 


244  HURBERT    SPISXCER 

As  his  early  training  had  been  neglected, 
whence,  then,  came  his  mental  ability  as  a  man? 
From  his  ancestors,  so  he  said.  His  account  of  his 
father  makes  one  believe  in  the  fatality  of  heredity. 
He  had  great  faith  in  the  influence  of  the  trans- 
mission of  characteristics  of  ancestors,  and  it  seems 
evident  from  his  life,  not  so  much  in  effect  of 
discipline,  particularly  when  a  transmitted  trait  was 
to  be  overcome. 

In  his  own  person,  it  seems  he  preferred  to  give 
inherited  tendencies  free  scope,  even  though  they 
went  to  an  objectionable  extent;  whereas  a  vast 
number  of  men  think  the  cultivation  of  character  by 
discipline  is  the  great  end  of  life. 

It  looks  as  though  Spencer  thought  it  useless  to 
fight  against  hereditary  traits.  Anyway,  he  seemed 
not  to  have  attempted  to  do  so.  In  this  he  w^as 
inconsistent,  for  he  tells  us  himself  in  his  autobio- 
graphy that  he  was  a  great  critic.  As  I  have  used 
his  autobiography  greatly  so  *  far,  and  shall  use  it 
further  to  some  extent,  I  will  speak  in  the  first  per- 
son and  use  his  own  language  largely.     Says  he : 

''The  tendency  to  fault-finding  in  me  is  dominant 
— disagreeably  dominant.  The  indicating  of  errors 
in  thought  and  in  speech  made  by  those  around  me 
has  all  through  life  been  an  incurable  habit — a  habit 
for  which  I  have  often  reproached  myself,  but  to  no 
purpose."  (This  he  claimed  to  have  inherited  from 
his  father  and  grandfather.)'  "And  here  let  me 
add  that  in  me  a  sense  of  duty  prompts  criticism,  for 
when  occasionally  I  succeed  in  restraining  myself 
from  making  a  comment  on  something  wrongly  said 
or  executed,  I  have  a  feeling  of  discomfort,  as 
though  I  had  left  undone  something  which  should 
have  been  done." 

His  anxiety  to  effect  the  improvement  of  others, 
as  we  shall  further  see,  was  greater  than  to  effect 
his  own  improvement. 


HBRBBRT    SPBKCER  245 


This  abnormal  tendency  to  criticism  he  assigns 
as  the  chief  reason  of  his  remaining  a  single  man. 
''Readiness  to  see  inferiorities  rather  than  superiori- 
ties must  have  impeded  me  in  finding  one  who 
attracted  me  in  adequate  degree." 

Similarly  to  be  explained  as  resulting  from 
inheritance  is  an  allied  trait — disregard  of  authority. 
Few  have  shown  this  more  conspicuously. 

A  closely  allied  trait  has  to  be  indicated,  viz, : 
the  absence  of  moral  fear. 

'T  contrast  unfavorably  with  both  my  father  and 
mother  in  certain  respects.  I  have  never  shown  the 
unfailing  diligence  which  w^as  common  to  them,  and 
there  has  not  been  displayed  in  me  as  great  an 
amount  of  altruistic  feeling  as  was  displayed  by 
both. 

''One  apparent  reason  is  that  the  circulation  in 
my  brain  has  been  throughout  life  less  vigorous  than 
it  should  be.  Besides  his  large  brain,  my  father  had 
a  large  chest,  and  as  a  result  an  abundant  supply  of 
energy.  In  my  mother,  the  chest  was  below  par, 
and  in  me  the  factors  are  not  the  same,  my  visceral 
constitution  taking  more  after  my  mother,  an  obvi- 
ous implication  being  that  in  the  brain  the  blood 
supply,  when  not  increased  by  excitement,  has  been 
below  par.  Hence  a  somewhat  deficient  genesis  of 
energy,  at  any  rate  not  as  great  as  in  my  father. 

"Hence,  in  early  days^  there  was  none  of  that 
tendency  towards  cruelty  which  boys  so  commonly 
display,  but  in  the  kind  of  beneficence  distinguish- 
able as  positive,  that  which  implies  activity,  there  is 
a  decided  difference  between  myself  and  my  parents. 

"I  pass,"  says  he,  "now  to  those  traits  which  are 
more  especially  mental.  Whatever  specialties  of 
character  and  faculty  in  me  are  due  to  inheritance 
are  inherited  from  my  father.  Between  my  mother's 
mind  and  my  own,  I  scarcely  see  any  resemblance. 
She  was  very  patient;    I  am  very  impatient.     She 

17— 


240  HERBERT    SPENCER 

was  tolerant  of  pain,  1)odily  and  mental;  I  am 
intolerant  of  it.  She  was  little  given  to  finding  fault 
with  others;  I  am  greatly  given  to  it.  She  was  sub- 
missive; I  am  the  reverse  of  submissive.  Not  only 
in  the  moral  characters  just  named  am  I  like  my 
father,  but  such  intellectual  characters  as  are 
peculiar  are  derived  from  him. 

"Though  an  intuition  is  not  inheritable,  the 
capacity  for  an  intuition  is,  and  I  inherited  an 
unusual  capacity  for  the  intuition  of  cause.  Always 
my  father  had  been  prone  to  inquiries  about  causes. 
This  has  been  shown  in  my  course  of  thought 
throughout  Hfe. 

''The  next  trait  inherited  from  my  father  is  the 
synthetic  tendency.  That  this  was  dominant  in 
him  is  proven  by  his  little  work  entitled  Tnventional 
Geometry.'  It  scarcely  needs  saying  that  the 
synthetic  tendency  has  been  conspicuous  in  all  I 
have  done  from  the  beginning.  This  was  manifest 
in  my  habit  of  castle-building  in  early  Hfe.  This 
absorption  went  so  far  in  me  as  to  lead  me  to  talk 
to  myself  in  the  «^treets.  and  to  pass  those  living  in 
the  same  house  with  me  without  knowing  that  I  had 
seen  them,  though  I  looked  them  in  the  face." 

HIS    GREATNESS 

'Tn  awarding  points  to  the  various  candidates 
for  immortality,"  so  says  The  Nation,  ''in  the  Pan- 
theon of  Philosophy,  few  are  entitled  to  a  higher 
mark  on  the  score  of  positive  and  systematic  form. 
Long  before  any  of  his  contemporaries  had  seized  its 
universal  import,  he  grasped  a  great,  light-giving 
truth — the  truth  of  evolution — and  applied  it  to  the 
whole  of  life  down  to  the  minutest  details  of  the 
most  various  sciences.  His  facts,  in  short,  seem 
collected  for  a  purpose;  those  which  favored  the 
purpose  are  never  forgotten." 

Whatever  he  wrote  or  said  received  attention  at 


HBRBBRT    SPBNCBR  247 

once,  was  discussed  or  influenced  action.  The  com- 
pletion of  his  phihsophy  in  England  was  regarded 
as  a  suitable  object  for  a  national  memorial. 

Further,  he  had  at  least  the  satisfaction  that 
throughout  the  civilized  world,  friend  and  foe  alike 
would  approve  what  he  said  and  did. 

Georgie  Eliot  uttered  surprise  at  seeing  no  lines 
on  his  forehead.  His  reply  was:  'T  suppose  it  is 
because  I  am  never  puzzled." 

Says  William  James,  of  Harvard :  ''Rarely  has 
nature  performed  an  odder  or  more  Dickens-like 
feat  than  when  she  deliberately  designed  or  acci- 
dentally stumbled  into  the  personality  of  Herbert 
Spencer.  Greatness  and  smallness  surely  never 
lived  so  closely  in  one  skin  together." 

When  we  turn  to  his  autobiography,  the  self- 
confession  is  this :  ''An  old-maidish  personage, 
inhabiting  boarding  houses,  equable  and  luke-warm 
in  all  his  tastes  and  passions,  having  no  desultory 
curiosity,  showing  little  interest  in  either  books  or 
people.  A  petty  fault-finder  and  stickler  for  trifles, 
devoid  in  youth  of  any  wide  designs  on  life,  yet 
drifting,  as  it  were,  involuntarily  into  the  posses- 
sion of  a  world  formula  which,  by  dint  of  his  extra- 
ordinary pertinacity,  he  proceeded  to  apply  to  so 
many  special  cases  that  it  made  him  a  philosopher 
in  spite  of  himself." 

Says  one :  "A  philosophic  saw-mill.  The  most 
capacious  and  powerful  thinker  of  all  time."  Says 
another :  "No  other  man  that  has  walked  the  earth 
has  so  brought  and  written  himself  into  the  life  of 
the  world."  Says  still  another :  "Take  one  thought 
alone — that  which  refers  to  the  positive  sense  of  the 
unknown — as  the  basis  of  religion.  It  may  unhesi- 
tatingly be  affirmed  that  the  analysis  and  synthesis 
by  which  he  advances  to  the  almost  supernatural 
grasp  of  this  mighty  truth  give  a  sense  of  power  and 


248  HERBERT    SPEXCER 

reach  verging  on  the  preternatural."  Since  Goethe, 
no  such  ideal  human  being  can  have  been  visible. 

Herbert  Spencer  was  no  abstract  idea.  He  was 
a  man  vigorously  devoted  to  truth  and  justice  as  he 
saw  them,  who  had  deep  insight,  and  who  finished 
under  terrible  frustrations  from  bad  health  a  piece 
of  work  that,  taken  all  in  all,  is  extraordinary. 

Says  W.  H.  Hudson,  of  Stanford  University : 
"Science  must  necessarily  end  in  the  mystery  with 
which  religion  begins.  That  which  persists  unchang- 
ing in  quantity,  but  ever  changing  in  form,  under 
the  sensible  appearances  which  the  universe  presents 
to  us  is  an  unknown  and  unknowable  power  which 
we  are  obliged  to  recognize  as  without  limit  in  space 
and  without  beginning  or  end  in  time,  and  this 
noumena  power  in  philosophy,  of  which  all  phenom- 
ena are  but  manifestation,  is  the  God  of  religion — 
the  infinite  and  eternal  energy  from  which  all  things 
proceed — was  the  God  of  Herbert  Spencer. 


The  Human  Brain 

The  anatomy  of  the  brain  is  so  difficult,  I  will 
scarcely  touch  upon  it,  except  in  a  few  words.  The 
largest  and  most  important  part  of  the  brain  is  called 
the  cerebrum,  and  is  situated  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
skull,  and  for  simplicity  we  will  call  it  the  upper 
brain.  It  is  composed  of  cells  and  fibers.  The  sur- 
face is  covered  with  a  layer  of  cells  about  one-tenth 
of  an  inch  thick,  which  dips  down  in  the  fissures  that 
mark  that  surface  of  this  organ  and  give  it  its 
peculiar  appearance.  The  cells  in  this  layer,  accord- 
ing to  Herbert  Spencer,  amount  to  600,000,000  in 
number.  They  are  collected  also  into  masses  at  the 
base  of  the  brain,  and  also  into  the  spinal  marrow, 
which  is  an  extension  of  the  brain. 

The  function  of  the  cells  is  to  intensify  activities, 
which  enter  them,  also  to  convert  one  kind  of  activ- 
ity into  another.  The  collections  of  cells  mentioned 
are  called  nerve  centers,  which  we  will  again  refer 
to.  I  will  but  mention  now  that  the  cells  are  called 
the  gray  matter  of  the  brain. 

Many  of  the  cells  have  one  or  more  extensions, 
which  are  called  fibers,  and  which  connect  one  part 
of  the  brain  with  another  and  w^hich  convey  nervous 
actions  from  one  part  to  another. 

The  greater  part  of  the  brain  is  made  up  of 
fibers.  Fibers  connect  the  upper  brain  with  the 
lower  brain  and  spinal  column,  also  with  the  pos- 
terior brain.  They  connect  the  gray  matter  of  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  brain,  also  the  two  sides  of  the 
brain.     When  you  come  to  study  the  association  of 

249 


250  rnii    HUMAN    BRAL\ 

nuisciilar  movements  and  of  ideas,  the  importance 
of  this  matter  will  be  seen. 

One  fact  about  the  fibers  which  connect  the  dif- 
ferent cells  of  the  brain  deserving  of  notice  is  that 
they  have  the  power  of  contracting  and  extending 
themselves.  In  other  words,  they  are  not  so  con- 
nected but  that  they  may  be  separated  and  then  the 
connection  re-established.  This  fact  was  discovered 
as  late  as  1889  by  a  Spanish  histologist.  Dr.  Cajal, 
and  is  now  concurred  in  generally.  The  new  method 
of  coloring  nerve  tissue  enabled  him  to  trace  the 
nerve  fibrils  to  their  ends.  He  showed  that  a  central 
nerve  cell  with  its  fibrils  has  no  direct  physical  con- 
nection with  any  other  nerve  cell  whatever.  He 
found  that  the  fibrils  formed  themselves,  whatever 
connection  might  exist,  and  that  they  operated  inter- 
mittently, and  that  under  proper  stimulation  they 
conduct  their  destined  impulse  over  the  connection. 
For  instance,  in  case  we  forget  a  certain  thing  it  is 
because  the  connection  of  certain  parts  of  the  brain 
has  been  severed  by  contraction  of  its  fibrils,  and 
when  it  is  re-established  by  their  re-extension,  we 
again  remember  the  lost  idea;  just  as  wires  are 
connected  and  separated  at  a  central  telephone 
office.  By  this  arrangement,  all  parts  of  the  brain 
are  not  associated  in  action  at  all  times,  which  would 
be  a  great  nuisance,  and  would  lead  to  a  perfect 
bedlam. 

Nerve  centers  are  distributed  through  the  mass 
of  gray  matter  that  covers  the  brain,  as  w^ell  as  in 
other  parts  of  that  organ.  For  instance,  the  centers 
wdiich  control  the  arm,  leg  and  face  are  known  to  be 
situated  upon  the  side  and  top  of  the  head.  I  opened 
the  skull  once,  of  a  man,  for  abscess  of  the  brain, 
and  went  down  precisely  on  the  right  spot.  Dr. 
Eskridge  had  located  it  by  the  effect  it  had  upon  the 
man's  left  \lrist.     By  the  way,  this  is  the  first  case 


THE    HUMAN    BRAIN  251 

on  record  in  which  the  skull  was  ever  opened  for 
abscess  of  the  brain. 

The  center  of  sight  is  known  to  be  in  the  back 
part  of  the  brain.  I  saw,  in  consultation,  once  a  boy 
who  had  fallen  on  the  ice,  striking  the  back  part  of 
his  head.  In  a  few  weeks  he  became  blind.  When 
an  examination  was  made,  after  death,  it  was  found 
that  this  part  of  the  brain  had  been  destroyed  by 
suppuration. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  centers,  from  a 
physiological  standpoint,  is  that  of  speech.  This  is 
found  at  the  bottom  of  the  brain  on  the  left  side. 
There  is  no  corresponding  center  on  the  right  side, 
but  in  left-handed  persons  the  only  center  is  on  that 
side.  In  certain  cases,  where  this  center  is  affected, 
it  is  possible  for  the  individual  to  understand  what 
is  said  to  him,  but  he  is  unable  to  express  himself 
in  words;  in  certain  other  cases,  words  convey  no 
idea  whatever  to  the  patient. 

The  spinal  cord  contains  many  independent  cen- 
terSj  and  the  cord  is,  therefore,  not  a  conducting 
organ  only  between  the  outer  world  and  the  brain, 
although  many  of  its  fibers  run  clear  through  to  the 
brain.  A  large  part  of  human  activity  takes  place 
without  any  voluntary  control,  or  even  without  any 
consciousness  on  the  part  of  the  individual,  and  this 
is  due  to  the  independent  nerve  centers  of  the  spinal 
cord.  If  it  be  cut  across,  all  feeling  and  voluntary 
motion  below  the  cut  is  lost,  but  if  the  sole  of  the 
foot  be  tickled  with  a  feather  the  leg  is  drawn  up, 
though  the  man  is  unaware  of  it.  Dr.  John  Hunter 
mentions  the  case  of  a  patient  with  paralysis  of  the 
lower  part  of  the  body,  in  whose  legs  violent  move- 
ments, which  he  did  not  feel,  were  produced,  when 
the  soles  of  the  feet  were  irritated.  When  asked 
whether  he  felt  it,  replied :  ''No,  sir ;  but  you  see 
my  legs  do." 

The  center  of  respiration  and  the  center  for  the 


252  Tin:     HUMAN     BRAIN 

heart's  action  also  reside  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
spinal  cord. 

I  will  give  some  evidences  of  mind,  according  to 
Bain.  These  I  will  merely  mention,  without  under- 
taking to  dilate  on  them : 

"First — When  a  cat  watches  for  a  mouse,  when  a 
dog  finds  its  way  home  over  a  strange  country,  we 
do  not  doubt  that  here  are  real  signs  of  the  presence 
of  mind.  When  a  tree  that  is  cut  w^ith  an  axe  shows 
no  signs  of  feeling  the  blow,  w^e  note  that  here 
signs  of  mind  are  absent. 

"Second — A  capacity  in  the  animal,  observable 
from  without,  to  adjust  themselves,  by  fitting  move- 
ments, to  what  takes  place  near  them. 

''Third — They  show  signs  of  satisfaction  or  dis- 
satisfaction, i.  e.,  of  pleasure  or  pain.  Higher  up  in 
the  animal  scale  we  meet  with  reactions  of  fear,  of 
anger,  of  joy,  and  of  numerous  other  emotional 
states.     We  may  class  all  these  as  signs  of  feeling. 

"Fourth — The  animal,  in  proportion  to  its  eleva- 
tion in  the  mental  scale,  shows  a  disposition  to  be 
determined  in  its  present  action  by  what  has  hap- 
pened to  it  in  the  past;  it  seems  to  learn  by  experi- 
ence. In  other  words,  shows  signs  of  memory  and 
docility. 

"Fifth — The  adjustment  of  an  organism  to  its 
environment  involves  the  occurrence  of  responses, 
which  are  initiated  w^ithin — spontaniety. 

"It  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  only  where  the 
signs  of  mental  initiative  appear  in  close  connection 
with  signs  of  docility  that  they  are  of  importance  as 
furnishing  evidence  of  the  presence  of  significant 
mental  life. 

"The  brain  is  the  principal,  although  not  the  sole 
organ  of  mind,  and  its  leading  functions  are  mental. 
The  proofs  of  this  position  are  these : 

"First — The  physical  pain  of  excessive  mental 
excitement  is  localized  in  the  head.     When  mental 


THE    HUMAN    BRAIN  253 

exercise  brings  on  acute  irritation,  the  local  seat  is 
the  head. 

''Second — Injury  or  disease  of  the  brain  affects 
the  mental  powers.  A  blow  on  the  head  destroys 
consciousness.  Physical  alterations  of  the  nervous 
substance  (as  seen  after  death)  are  connected  with 
loss  of  speech,  loss  of  memory,  insanity,  or  some 
other  mental  derangement. 

"Third — The  products  of  nervous  waste  are 
more  abundant  after  mental  excitement. 

''Fourth — Mental  labor  gives  rise  to  slight  eleva- 
tion of  the  temperature  of  the  head,  as  shown  by 
the  thermometer. 

"Fifth — By  specific  experiments  on  the  brain  of 
animals,  as  well  as  man,  it  is  shown  that  the  brain 
is  indispensible  to  mental  functions." 

MEMORY    AND    REASONING 

There  are  so  many  mental  powers  ,we  cannot 
notice  each.  There  are  a  couple,  however,  so  very 
important  that  we  must  not  fail  to  mention  them  in 
passing.  They  are  memory  and  reasoning.  With- 
out memory  we  cannot  identify  ourselves  with  our 
past  lives.  We  would  have  no  histrionic  value  what- 
ever ;  we  would  be  like  a  great  number  of  independ- 
ent beings.  The  memory  has  its  foundation  in  our 
bodily  organization.  If  one  ever  has  Smallpox  or 
many  other  specific  fevers,  he  never  has  them  a  sec- 
ond time.  The  body  does  not  forget  that  he  has 
had  them  once.  The  first  attack  seems  to  work  a 
modification  in  the  tissues  of  the  body  and  the  blood. 
If  a  child  cuts  a  hand  to  any  extent,  the  body  does 
not  forget  to  reproduce  the  scar  as  long  as  he  lives. 

The  same  is  true,  to  a  certain  extent,  with  men- 
tal memory.  An  impression  on  the  brain  works 
some  kind  of  modification  in  the  brain  which  causes 
it  to  never  forget  entirely  the  cause  which  wrought 
it.    The  fact  which  produced  it  may  lie  dormant  for 


2:a  Tim   Hi  MAX   bral\ 

a  long  time,  yet  some  bodily  state,  some  state  of  the 
blood,  may  reproduce  it.  In  keeping  with  this  fact, 
we  find  that  serious  injuries  to  the  head  may  cause 
one  to  lose  memory.  The  mind  may  become  a  blank 
as  far  as  all  occurrences  are  concerned.  One 
peculiarity  about  such  injuries  is  that  it  may  be  only 
recent  events  that  are  forgotten.  From  this  it  would 
seem  that  impressions  must  have  time  to  work  their 
full  effect  or  modification  in  that  organ,  and  that  if 
the  impression  or  sensation  is  wiped  out  too  soon, 
they  are  forgotten.  These  things  show  that  mem- 
ory has  a  physical  basis  to  a  great  extent. 

Again,  if  we  had  no  memory,  we  could  not  learn 
anything,  could  not  make  any  progress  in  mental  or 
physical  development.  It  should  not  be  forgotten, 
however,  that  memory  lies  deeper  than  the  mind, 
for  there  is  an  organic  memory.  The  proper  place 
to  begin  the  study  of  memory  is  the  muscular  tissue. 
Muscular  fiber  responds  feebly  at  first  to  the  excita- 
tion transmitted ;  does  so  more  vigorously  the  more 
frequently  it  is  stimulated.  It  gains  more  in  activity 
than  in  repose.  We  have  here  in  the  simplest  form 
the  nearest  approach  to  mental  memory.  But  this 
has  nothing  to  do  with  the  brain,  so  we  will  pass  on 
to  reasoning. 

"Reasoning  is  more  especially  a  function  of 
brain,  although  dependent  upon  memory;  though, 
when  we  come  to  investigate  the  intelligence  of 
animals,"  so  says  Halleck,  ''we  find  that  their 
reasoning  is  principally  by  association  of  concretes, 
and  a  result  of  the  structure  of  the  brain,  especially 
its  fibers.  The  dog  that  ran  to  the  potato  patch  on 
hearing  the  expression,  'The  cow  is  in  the  potatoes,'' 
knew  from  oft  association  of  the  word  "cow"  with 
the  object  that  the  cow  needed  attention.  The  word 
"potatoes"  recalled  the  place.  The  dog  that  ran 
directly  to  the  mouth  of  the  burrow  and  waited  for 
his  prey,  instead  of  chasing  the  rabbit's  path  which 


THE    HUMAN    BRAIN  255 

finally  led  to  the  burrow,  showed  the  effect  of  asso- 
ciation. Repeated  associations  had  caused  the  sight 
of  the  rabbit  vanishing  down  the  burrow  to  rnake 
such  a  deep  impression  on  the  dog  that  when  he 
started,  the  associated  images  ran  through  his  mind 
faster  than  his  legs  could  take  him.  The  dog  imme- 
diately rushed  straight  for  the  place  indicated  by  the 
image  of  the  rabbit  disappearing  down  the  burrow, 
arriving  there  first,  because  his  association  had  out- 
run his  legs. 

The  pig  that  shook  a  tree  to  make  the  apples  fall 
had  previously  leaned  against  the  tree  to  scratch 
herself.  This  movement  was  associated  with  the 
falling  of  apples,  and  both  concrete  ideas  were  asso- 
ciated in  the  pig's  memory.  Generally,  we  may  say 
that  the  reasoning  of  animals  is  due  to  the  contigu- 
ous association  of  one  concrete  object,  or  set  of 
objects,  with  another.  This  may  occasionally  con- 
tain the  germ,  but  not  the  full  flower  of  human 
reasoning. 

The  brain  of  man,  wdiich  is  the  organ  of  mind, 
like  that  of  the  higher  animals,  is  greatly  influenced 
by  association,  and  there  are  laws  of  association  of 
ideas  which  show  the  way  in  which  ideas  follow  each 
other ;  one  idea  suggests  another  in  accordance  with 
these  laws.  For  instance,  there  is  the  law  of  con- 
tiguity— that  is,  one  state  of  consciousness  suggests 
another  that  is  closely  related  to  it  in  the  brain. 
Again,  likeness  and  unlikeness  suggest  correspond- 
ing ideas,  etc.  These  suggestions  are  far  more 
extensive  in  man  than  in  the  animals. 

Herbert  Spencer  defines  mind  as  a  correspond- 
ence between  inner  relations  and  outer  relations,  and 
claims  that  the  outer  relations  suggest  and  call  forth 
the  inner  relations.  This  is  true  to  a  great  extent 
in  animals,  but  is  far  more  so  in  man,  as  he  is  a  far 
more  complex  being,  when  you  take  into  considera- 
tion his  intellect,  which  extend  their  inner  relations, 


256  THE    HUMAN    DRAIN 

for  example,  through  space,  as  in  sight  and  hear- 
ing, which  gives  them  great  advantage  in  escaping 
enemies.  We  observe  how,  along  with  complexity 
of  organization,  there  goes  an  increase  in  the  num- 
ber, in  the  range,  in  the  speciality,  and  in  the 
complexity  of  the  adjustments  of  inner  relations  to 
outer  relations. 

These  co-relations  are  still  better  seen  in  the 
objective  appliances  he  uses.  W'e  may  properly  say 
that  in  its  higher  forms  the  correspondence  between 
the  organism  and  its  environment  is  effected  by 
means  of  supplementary  senses  and  supplementary 
limbs.  All  observing  instruments,  all  weights,  meas- 
ures, scales,  microscopes,  thermometers,  etc.,  are 
artificial  senses.  By  means  of  the  telescope,  for 
instance,  he  extends  his  inner  relations  through 
space  to  the  stars,  wdien  the  proper  sizes  and  motions 
can  be  measured.  Also  in  time,  when  he  foretells  a 
thousand  years  before  hand  when  an  eclipse  of  a 
certain  planet  will  occur.  And  now,  on  returning 
from  this  long  digression,  bringing  with  us  the  con- 
ceptions arrived  at,  we  find  that  they  serve  to  eluci- 
date the  subject — the  increase  of  the  correspondence 
in  complexity  between  outer  and  inner  adjustments. 

GROWTH    OF    THE    BRAIN 

As 'the  brain  is  the  organ  of  the  mind,  we  take 
it  for  granted  the  growth  of  mind  means  growth  of 
brain.  We  do  not  mean  enlargement  of  brain. 
Growth  may  take  place  in  other  ways.  For  instance, 
in  intelligent  races  it  is  found  the  fissures  on  the 
surface  of  the  brain  are  deeper,  giving  room  for 
more  surface  matter  (which  is  the  thinking  mater- 
ial) than  in  the  uncivilized.  Again,  there  may  be  a 
re-arrangement  of  the  particles  of  matter  in  such 
wise  as  to  correspond  with  the  capability  for  higher 
thought  and  action. 

The  effect  of  thought  and  action  is  supposed  to 


THE    HUMAN    BRAIN  'Zol 

produce  this  re-arrangement  among  the  particles  of 
the  brain,  and  it  is  thought  that  this  is  the  basis  of 
memory  and  progress.  In  whatever  the  minute 
change  in  the  brain  consists,  we  are  justified  in 
speaking  of  its  adaptation  to  higher  thought  and 
action  as  a  growth. 

The  expression,  therefore,  that  the  brain  grows 
to  our  modes  of  thinking  and  acting  is  an  intelHgent 
one,  and  shows  that  exercise  of  the  facuhies  and 
powers  develop  the  brain.  This  belief  is  in  favor 
of  those  schools  which  lay  great  emphasis  on  train- 
ing the  mind  rather  than  storing  it  with  knowledge. 
It  goes  upon  the  presumption,  that  if  the  mind  is 
well  trained,  it  can  accumulate  and  handle  ideas 
later  in  life;  without  this  training  it  can  neither 
retain  nor  manage  knowledge.  The  more  we  exer- 
cise our  memories,  the  better  we  can  remember,  and 
the  more  we  exercise  our  reasoning  powers,  the 
better  we  can  use  our  knowledge. 

Of  course,  the  acquirement  of  knowledge  exer- 
cises our  powers  of  mind,  but  there  are  studies 
whose  effects  are  principally  manifest  in  the  way  of 
training,  and  which  are  of  little  value  otherwise, 
such  as  mathematics,  the  dead  languages,  and  cer- 
tain kinds  of  science,  as  logic  for  instance.  Youth 
is  the  time  for  the  practice  of  these  training  studies, 
while  adult  life  is  the  time  for  accumulating  knowl- 
edge. 

THE    BRAIN    AS    AN    INHIBITING    ORGAN 

The  word  inhibit  is  almost  synonymous  with  pro- 
hibit, yet  in  physiology  the  word  inhibit  is  in  gen- 
eral use.  The  function  of  the  brain  in  holding  back 
actvities  is  an  important  one.  Upon  the  process  of 
inhibiting,  i.  e.,  of  preventing  or  overcoming  a  form 
of  nervous  excitement,  the  organization  of  all  higher 
life    depends.      What,    in    any    situation,    we    are 


258  THE    HUMAN     BRAIN 

rcstraiiK'(l  from  doing  is  as  important  to  us  as  what 
we  do. 

The  nuuual  opposition  and  balancing  of  numer- 
ous tendencies  is  absolutely  essential  to  normal  life. 
The  brain  receives  at  every  waking  instant  an 
enormous  overwealth  of  sensory  stimulation.  If  the 
field  of  vision,  for  instance,  is  full  of  interesting 
objects,  all  of  them  tend  to  excite  various  move- 
ments of  the  eyes,  so  that  no  one  thing  could  be 
distinctly  seen.  In  order  to  look  steadily,  for  even 
a  moment,  in  any  one  direction,  we,  therefore,  have 
to  inhibit  all  of  these  tendencies,  except  the  one 
whose  triumph  means  seeing  the  preferred  object. 
One  absorbed  in  writing  or  reading  lets  pass  without 
notice  impressions  to  which,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, he  would  respond  by  acts  of  looking,  of 
listening,  of  grasping,  or  of  other  muscular  move- 
ments. Let  him  cease  the  higher  activity  and  he 
adjusts  himself  to  the  lesser  matters  of  his  sur- 
roundings. An  absorbed  public  speaker,  or  man  in 
a  formal  social  company,  inhibits  or  prevents  those 
movements,  however  habitual  they  are  in  other  com- 
pany and  however  strong,  which  his  habits  have 
taught  him  to  suppress,  as  being  here  out  of  char- 
acter. 

The  rule  of  inhibition  is  that  the  higher  a  given 
function  is,  the  more  numerous  are  the  inhibitory 
influences  that  it  exercises  over  the  lower  centers. 
Excite  a  child's  brain  to  anything  approaching 
absorbing  activity  (example:  by  telling  it  an  inter- 
esting story),  and  for  the  time  you  keep  it  quiet; 
otherwise,  he  runs  about,  wiggles,  kicks,  and  prat- 
tles. These  may  cease,  by  inhibition,  when  a  story 
begins.  Self-control  is  an  essential  part  of  health, 
and  absence  of  it  is  a  sign  of  nervous  disorder,  or 
immaturity. 

There  is  one  instance  in  which  the  tendency  to 
self-control,  or  inhibition,  becomes  very  unpleasant. 


THE    HUMAN     BRAIN  259 

and  that  is  in  worry.  Whether  one  rushes  about  or 
lies  still  in  pretended  rest,  whether  his  mood  is  this 
or  that,  he  is  all  the  while  inclined  to  act,  and  is  busy 
holding  himself  back  from  effective  action.  His 
endless  question,  ''What  shall  1  do?"  his  motor  rest- 
lessness, his  petty  and  useless  little  deeds,  all  express 
his  inability  to  choose  between  the  numerous  tend- 
encies to  movement  which  his  situation  arouses.  In 
his  dispair,  he  tries  to  inhibit  all  acts  until  a  saving 
plan  shall  appear;  and  so,  accomplishing  nothing, 
he  may  do  far  more  motor  work  than  an  acrobat. 
But  let  the  dreaded  calamity  over  which  he  worried 
befall  him  and  the  useless  inhibitions  vanish.  The 
recently  worried  man  may  hereupon  become  cool, 
and  may  bear  the  worst  so  much  more  easily  than 
he  could  the  uncertainty,  and  may  find  great  relief 
from  the  cessation  of  useless  motor  and  mental 
processes. 

UNCONSCIOUS    ACTIVITY    OF    THE    BRAIN 

We  attempt  to  recall  a  name  and  fail.  We  bring 
to  bear  especial  efforts  in  a  round-about  way,  but 
still  we  fail.  We  dismiss  the  matter  from  our 
minds,  and  in  course  of  time  the  name  appears  to 
us,  when  we  were  not  thinking  about  it.  But  it 
seems  that  the  brain  does  not  dismiss  it,  but  works 
aAvay  at  it  without  our  knowing  it ;  otherwise  we 
could  not  account  for  the  fact  that  it  solves  the  diffi- 
culty. It  is  fair  to  presume  that  a  great  deal  of  our 
thinking  is  done  unconsciously,  and  that  we  spend 
much  of  our  time  in  unconscious  reverie. 

Of  late  years  a  great  deal  is  made  of  this  uncon- 
scious mental  activity.  One  writer.  Dr.  James,  of 
Harvard  University,  lays  stress  on  our  unconscious 
self  in  religious  m.atters,  and  thinks  the  Divine 
Being  acts  upon  this  part  of  our  natures.  I  was 
present  at  a  lecture  given  by  Dr.  Lancaster,  at  the 
High  School  buikling,  some  time  ago,  the  subject 


20U  rilLi    HUMAS     BRAIN 

being  this  uiicunsciuus  action,  when  a  lady  asked 
the  question  whether,  in  the  inspiration  of  the 
scriptures,  the  Diety  might  not  have  acted  upon  this 
unconscious  self  of  the  writer?  To  which  the  pro- 
fessor replied  in  the  affirmative. 

It  would  seem  that  these  men  look  upon  this 
part  of  our  natures  as  superior  to  our  conscious 
selves.     For  my  part,  I  cannot  see  it  in  this  light. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  cells  and  connecting 
libers  of  the  brain,  and  the  way  we  regard  this 
unconscious  action  of  the  brain  is  that  an  activity 
of  one  part  of  the  brain  is  conducted  to  other  parts, 
and  this  condition  is  carried  on  by  the  fibers  with- 
out our  knowledge  by  what  is  called  the  w'ork  of 
association. 

It  is  true,  our  thinking  without  our  knowing  of 
it  may  be  just  as  correct,  possibly  more  so,  than 
when  we  do  know  of  it.  Our  knowledge  of  the 
process  is  not  necessary  to  make  it  effectual.  We 
try  to  repeat  a  poem,  for  instance,  with  which  we 
are  familiar,  and  get  off  \vrong.  If  we  concentrate 
our  minds  upon  our  effort,  we  are  liable  to  fail 
worse  than  ever,  Avhereas  if  we  let  one  line  suggest 
another,  we  are  more  likely  to  succeed.  Our  atten- 
tion seems  to  interfere  with  the  associative  process. 
This  convinces  us  that  unconscious  thinking  is 
largely  an  associative  process,  as  is  the  case  with 
animals,  and  is  due  to  the  mechanical  arrangement 
of  the  brain,  and  is  an  involuntary  passage  of  trains 
of  activity  along  its  fibers,  and  is  not  due  to  the 
superiority  of  the  process  of  unconscious  thinking. 

Consciousness  may  interfere  with  the  process, 
just  as  seeing  or  looking  around  may  interfere  \vith 
thinking  by  distracting  attention,  but  it  does  not  fol- 
low that  we  are  any  higher  being  when  our  eyes  are 
shut. 


Indu^rialism 

What  interests  man  most  in  this  hfe?  What 
receives  the  greatest  amount  of  attention  at  his 
hands,  absorbs  the  most  of  his  efforts,  and  has  the 
greatest  amount  of  influence  upon  his  conduct,  char- 
acter and  destiny?  The  answer  is  subsistence;  the 
providing  himself  with  food  and  clothing  and  all 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  health  and  happiness. 

After  being  born,  to  continue  to  live  is  the  pri- 
mary instinct  and  the  first  duty  of  every  living 
being.  To  subsist,  we  must  work  or  produce.  If 
we  do  not  work,  we  die.  Every  individual,  by  his 
labor  day  by  day,  must  provide  as  much  of  the 
materials  of  subsistence  as  will  support  himself  and 
those  dependent  on  him  for  that  day.  Work,  then, 
is  the  lot,  duty  and  privilege  of  every  member  of  the 
community.  Subsistence  work  is  nature's  founda- 
tional condition  of  life,  upon  which  not  only  the 
existence  of  society,  but  the  continuance  of  the  race 
depends.  For  a  person  to  object  to  work  or  be 
ashamed  of  working  is  as  illogical  as  to  object  to 
having  a  heart  or  brain. 

That  a  person  is  not  ashamed  that  he  does  not 
work  shows  a  mind  uninformed  or  a  character 
depraved.  The  supply  of  the  needs,  wants  and 
desires  of  mankind  is  man's  main  business  through 
life.  It  affects  every  person  in  the  world,  as  all  sub- 
sist. It  absorbs  more  human  energy  and  thought 
than  all  the  other  interests  and  occupations  of 
humanity  combined,  as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in 

18-  261 


li()2  IX  D  US  TRIAUSM 

civilized  countries  999  persons  in  every  1,000  are 
engaged  in  work  of  one  kind  or  another. 

In  some  ages  of  the  world  religion  has  been 
regarded  as  man's  chief  end,  and  his  religious  inter- 
ests as  the  matters  of  primary  concern.  Yet  you 
cannot  subsist  on  religion.  If  a  person  only  inter- 
ested himself  in  religion,  he  would  die,  if  some  other 
person  did  not  work  for  him  and  provide  him  with 
subsistence. 

In  the  middle  ages -religion  was  supposed  to  be 
the  business  of  life.  Look  at  the  result:  The 
inherited  civilization  was  lost,  and  Europe  entered 
upon  a  period  of  misery,  moral  degradation,  and 
debased  superstition  without  a  parallel  in  the  world's 
history. 

As  far  as  the  benefits  of  religion  are  concerned, 
I  suspect  I  am  willing  to  go  farther  than  the  most 
of  you.  If  proof  were  needed  of  the  underlying 
relationship  between  religion  and  industry,  it  w^ould 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  the  most  religious  nations 
are  economically  the  most  prosperous. 

The  most  energetic  and  prosperous  industrial 
communities  are  North  America,  Germany,  Holland 
and  Great  Britain,  and  we  think  it  will  be  admitted 
that  these  countries  are  those  in  which  the  religious 
spirit  and  religious  influences  have  the  most  power- 
ful operative  effect  upon  the  masses  of  the  people. 

I  will  mention  one  benefit  conferred  by  religion 
on  industry  which  is  important,  and  that  is  the  train- 
ing of  self-control.  Abstaining  from  certain  foods, 
meats  and  drinks,  from  certain  luxuries  and  pleas- 
ures, for  a  day  in  the  week  or  for  a  period  of  the 
year,  is  a  most  useful  check  upon  the  aggressive 
liabits  of  self-indulgence. 

The  perfect  industrial  man  is  not  the  individual 
who  thinks  of  nothing  else  and  knows  of  nothing  but 
his  selfish  interests.  On  the  contrary,  the  most 
effective  worker  is  the  man  who  has  an  effective 


INDUSTRIALISM  263 

sympathy  with  every  form  of  human  interest  and 
activity.  The  distance  separating  the  rehgious 
thought  and  the  rehgious  spirit  from  industry  does 
not  weaken  the  useful  inlluence  of  the  one  upon  the 
other. 

There  is  another  respect  in  which  rehgion  is  a 
benefit.  There  are  many  failures  in  the  industrial 
war ;  many  weary  in  the  prolonged  campaign ; 
others  lag  behind  in  the  march;  others  fall  in  with 
misfortune,  or  meet  with  disaster,  through  no  fault 
of  their  own.  It  is  the  fortune  of  war.  All  equally 
deserving  do  not  return  to  be  crowned  with  laurels. 
To  all  these,  religion  extends  sympathy  and  consola- 
tion— the  wrongs  and  misfortunes  of  this  life  will 
be  rectified  and  compensated  in  the  next.  So  it  is 
that  every  form  of  religion  which  contemplates  a 
future  existence,  as  all  do,  is  a  benefit  in  the  consola- 
tion it  affords.  The  blood-thirsty  savage,  as  well  as 
the  Christian  believer,  receives  comfort  for  his  woes 
in  his  anticipation  of  redress  in  a  future  life.  Prob- 
ably there  is  no  form  of  religion,  however  hetrodox, 
that  does  not  afford  this  consolation  to  the  unfor- 
tunate. To  them  the  world  is  hard,  blind,  unappre- 
ciative  and  unjust.  It  would  be  cruel  to  refuse  to 
them  the  consolations  religion  affords.  But  still  we 
must  work,  for  we  cannot  live  on  the  consolations  of 
religion. 

However  beneficial  religion  may  be  to  industry, 
there  are  respects  wherein  it  is  injurious;  for 
instance,  when  the  clergy  belittle  the  importance  and 
dignity  of  life,  or  when  they  describe  poverty  as  a 
necessary,  desirable  or  meritorious  moral  or  relig- 
ious state. 

And  then,  again,  religion  is  injurious  when  the 
clergy  preach  doctrines  which  are  economically 
unsound  and  fatal  to  all  industry.  We  believe 
industry  to  be  not  only  the  absolute  duty,  but  the 
highest  duty  of  the  great  mass  of  mankind. 


204  INDUSJ'KLIUSM 

Modern  civilization,  with  all  its  triumphs,  is  just 
the  recognition  of  the  truth  that  the  main  and  most 
important  business  of  mankind  is  the  adequate  sup- 
ply of  man's  needs,  wants  and  desires.  When  the 
people's  mind  is  not  detiected  or  artificially  intiu- 
enced,  their  natural  bent,  their  spontaneous  recogni- 
tion of  the  main  purpose  of  life,  is  the  supply,  con- 
servation and  accumulation  of  the  elements  of  sub- 
sistence. When  we  consider  the  joy  and  physical 
exhileration  which  work  affords,  we  have  traced  it 
as  high  as  it  is  possible  to  do,  to-wit :  to  the  origi- 
nator of  all  things.  \ 

It  is  not  on  account  of  the  money  value  of  labor 
in  which  its  worth  consists,  for  a  hard  day's  work  by 
man  is  only  equivalent  in  energy  to  that  produced 
by  five  ounces  of  coal  (five  ounces,  mind  you,  and 
not  five  pounds),  but  it  is  its  effects  upon  his  body 
and  mind  where  its  value  comes  in.  These  cannot 
be  estimated  in  dollars  and  cents.  Although  the 
money  value  of  a  hard  day's  work  be  less  than  one 
cent,  yet  there  is  satisfaction,  content  and  pleasure  in 
zuork,  especially  when  we  add  the  pleasure  and  satis- 
faction of  producing  something  or  earning  a  liveli- 
hood. 

It  is  true,  work  is  not  an  inborn  instinct,  although 
play  is,  but  is  an  acquired  capacity.  It  arises  from 
our  bodily  needs.  Hunger  is  at  the  foundation  of 
all  organic  movement  and  striving,  in  either  the 
vegeta1)le,  insect  or  animal  world.  It  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  struggle  for  existence.  Man  w^orks 
because  he  is  hungry.  It  is,  as  it  were,  a  divine  com- 
mand to  him.  From  the  dawn  of  history  until  now, 
man's  principal  business  in  life  has  been  his  pro- 
vision for  gratifying  this  appetite.  Civilization  is  a 
graft  upon  this  primal  economic  effort,  as  culture 
is  a  graft  upon  civilization.  Religion,  knowledge, 
culture,    political    science,    art    and    luxury    are    all 


IND  USTRIALISM  265 

grafts  upon  this  foundational  fact  of  economic  neces- 
sity of  work. 

Yet  it  would  not  be  difficult,  under  the  disguise 
of  religion,  to  make  the  masses  lose  their  slowly 
acquired  disposition  to  work,  and  champion  move- 
ments of  robbery  and  spoilation. 

We  know  that  socialism  of  the  most  dangerous 
kind  is  not  only  tolerated,  but  fostered  by  misguided 
religious  teachers. 

We  have  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  man's  prin- 
cipal business  in  life  is  to  work,  not  only  as  a  means 
of  affording  content  to  all  workers,  but  because  it  is 
too  much  forgotten,  or  at  least  overlooked,  at  the 
present  day.  Many  dangerous  movements  in  mod- 
ern society,  and  much  unnecessary  discontent,  min- 
gles with  the  labor  of  our  manual  working  classes 
because  there  is  a  lurking  opinion  that  work  is 
unnecessary  and  a  badge  of  degradation. 

Let  us  proclaim  the  truth,  that  labor  is  the  prime 
honor,  as  well  as  the  prime  necessity  of  life  and 
health;  that  so  far  from  being  a  degradation  it  is 
a  duty  and  a  privilege ;  that  it  ought  to  be,  and  to  a 
properly  constituted  and  healthy  mind  is,  a  genuine 
source  of  happiness  and  pleasure. 

We  want  to  remove  the  conception  that  industry 
is  sordid  and  mean.  On  the  contrary,  industrialism 
is  a  universal  personal  advantage.  But  universal 
personal-  advantage  is  and  must  be  mutual  advan- 
tage. In  helping  himself,  the  industrialist  assists  his 
rival,  his  neighbor  and  his  country.  The  foundation 
of  industry  is  useful,  beneficent  action.  If  it  is  not 
useful  and  beneficent,  it  is  not  industry. 

''He  who  w^orks  merely  for  gain  loses  the  soul 
of  labor,  while  he  who  labors  for  the  sake  of  work 
puts  soul  in  every  touch  of  the  hands.  Love  of  the 
work  that  is  to  be  wrought  glorifies  labor,  even  as 
the  sun  glorifies  the  glistening  mountain  peak,  and 
itj  last  smile  bathes  the  valley  with  golden  splendor." 


266  INDUSTRIALISM 

Man  finds  -in  toil  dif^^nity,  beanty,  and  peace, 
which  afford  the  weary  mind  the  sweetest  and  most 
restorative  rest. 

While  religion  witJiout  ivork  is  a  poor  substitute! 
as  is  evident  from  the  following  quotation : 

"But  if  any  provide  not  for  his  ow^n,  and  espe- 
cially for  those  of  his  own  house,  he  hath  denied  the 
faith,  and  is  worse  than  an  infidel." 

Thus,  you  see,  the  scriptures  place  industry 
ahead  of  religion.  They  make  it  more  important 
than  a  belief  in  God.  Now  that  the  scriptures  take 
this  position,  what  are  you  going  to  say  about  it^ 
\Miat  are  you  going  to  offer  in  favor  of  the  dead- 
beat  and  tramp  that  perambulate  this  earth,  however 
Godly  they  may  assume  to  appear? 

The  dominant  thought  should  be  that  wealth  is 
a  duty  to  the  individual,  a  growing  necessity  to  the 
age,  and  t'hat  the  world  needs  many  times  over  its 
present  capital. 

Hence  one  of  the  best  things  we  can  do  is  to 
leave  it  a  little  more;  leave  it  a  little  better  off  by 
adding  a  little  more  to  its  capital  stock. 

There  is  another  side  to  our  subject,  viz. : 

ACCUMULATION. 

On  the  side  we  have  treated  lies  production.  On 
the  side  we  are  now  about  to  speak  of  lies  accumula- 
tion— the  watershed  of  industry.  Though  it  must 
have  production  as  an  antecedent,  it  embraces  the 
process  of  saving.  If  we  expend  the  remuneration 
of  our  labors  on  pleasurable  satisfactions,  we  can- 
not accumulate.  We  have,  therefore,  to  take  notice 
that  to  accomplish  accumulation,  self-denial  is  a  pre- 
requisite, especially  of  the  humbler  industrialist,  who 
seeks  to  rise  from  the  ranks  of  chronic  poverty. 
With  these,  self-denial  is  the  dominating  fact  gov- 
erning accumulation.  This  is  the  only  source  of 
accumulation  open  to  the  great  mass  of  our  working 


IND  USTRIAUSM  267 

population ;  and  this,  I  may  observe,  is  a  moral  qual- 
ity. I  may  say  that,  while  productive  industry,  which 
supplies  the  current  needs  and  wants  of  society,  is 
a  temporary  and  evanescent  form  of  industry, 
accumulation  has  for  its  purpose  a  future  and  per- 
manent or  relatively  permanent  object.  A  person 
seeks  to  save  that  his  accumulated  earnings  may 
assume  a  permanent  form,  may  go  to  join  the  stand- 
ing or  stored-up  wealth  that  will  permanently 
improve  the  world,  and  human  society  that  lives  in 
it.  What  a  glorious  thought !  It  means  helping  the 
Diety  to  make  this  world  a  more  desirable  abode  for 
man  to  live  in.  Is  the  man,  therefore,  who  leaves 
behind  him  something  to  help  on  the  human  race, 
to  help  the  world  to  become  a  better  world,  is  he  the 
selfish  man?  Nay,  verily,  as  the  world  has  not  half 
wealth  enough,  I  would  say  rather  consider  him 
the  selfish  man  who  spends  on  himself  and  his 
chums,  in  the  way  of  dissipation  and  barbaric  lux- 
ury, all  he  can  rake  and  scrape.  What  better  can 
we  do  than  leave  the  world  a  little  better  off  for 
having  lived  in  it?  a  little  better  for  the  next  that 
follows?  I  do  not-include  the  miser,  of  course,  as  he 
is  a  specimen  of  diseased  and  deranged  manhood. 

As  an  example  of  the  former,  witness  Winfield 
Scott  Stratton,  whose  wealth  will  continue  to  effect 
import  and  humane  results  long  after  his  bones  have 
mouldered  to  dust.  We  would  say  shame  on  him 
who  points  the  finger  of  scorn  at  the  man  of  fortune 
because  he  does  not  use  up  all  his  assets  while  he 
lives  rather  than  have  them  go  to  benefit  the  world 
after  he  is  gone! 

The  greatest  present-day  triumphs  of  productive 
energy  are  based  upon  and  are  the  consequence  of 
its  previous  self-denial  and  accumulation. 

Accumulation  is,  therefore,  one  of  the  main 
sources  of  wealth.  It  depends  on  a  moral  quality- 
self-denial.     It  is  a  dutv;    it  is  a  source  of  national 


■^66  IXDL'STRLUJSM 

l)rosi)erity,  and  the  millions  who  are  engaged  in  it 
only  testify  to  its  universal  character. 

There  is  aiiotlicr  cud  of  industry  zuorthy  of 
notice,  and  that  is  to  establish  the  victory  of  man 
over  nature. 

Now,  where  is  there  a  force,  a  difficulty,  or  a 
contingency  man  is  not  prepared  to  tackle?  We 
hear  of  areas  the  size  of  provinces  to  be  re-afforested, 
deserts  to  be  re-watered  and  irrigated,  isthmuses  to 
be  cut  by  canals,  mountains  tunneled,  straits  bridged, 
seas  enclosed,  pumped  dry  and  tilled;  every  conti- 
nent traversed  by  railways  from  end  to  end,  and  our 
oceans  ploughed  by  floating  palaces  at  high  speed. 

New  substances  and  forms  of  force  have  been 
invented,  which  in  themselves  are  not  only  new,  but 
absolutely  unique.  They  are  unknown  to  nature. 
The  power  of  waterfalls  are  transmitted  in  the  form 
of  electricity,  to  give  light  and  heat  to  drive  indus- 
tries in  distant  cities.  The  articulate  sounds  of  the 
human  voice  have  been  transmitted  through  the  air 
distances  of  nearly  2,000  miles. 

Man  is  not  only  conscious  of  his  victory  over 
nature,  although  a  part  of  nature  himself,  but  his 
consciousness  rings  with  this  superiority,  and  the 
national  sentiment  is  inspired  by  it. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  economic  results  are  year 
by  year  attained  at  a  smaller  expenditure  of  energy. 
Life — individual  life — is  now  more  easily  supported. 
Not  so  long  ago  large  masses  of  men  had  to  pass 
their  life  in  unremitting  toil  simply  to  sustain  exist- 
ence.- Now^  merely  to  sustain  life  does  not  employ 
a  man's  whole  time  and  energies.  He  is  left  at  his 
choice  with  more  time  for  other  pursuits,  such  as  the 
discovery  of  truth,  the  dissemination  of  knowledge, 
and  the  elevation  of  the  race. 

There  is  no  nobler  or  more  useful  form  of  serv- 
ice to  humanity  than  industry ;  than  the  full  and 
generous  gratification  of  man's  every  need  at  the 


IND  US  TRIA IJSM  2m 

price  of  the  least  sacrifice,  that  the  most  active  intel- 
ligences and  hardest  workers  of  the  age  can  supply. 
It  is  not  only  a  service,  it  is  a  necessity,  and,  as  a 
necessity,  it  is  the  discharge  of  a  primary  duty — the 
duty  lying  nearest  at  hand. 

For  development  of  character,  the  training  of 
the  intelligence,  and  for  world  usefulness,  no  other 
field  of  human  experience  surpasses  intellectual 
industry.  All  art,  science,  culture  and  civilization 
was  born  after  it,  within  it,  and  are  continued  by 
its  aid.  But  the  reason  is  not  that  man's  material 
wants  are  less  fully  and  adequately  supplied.  On 
the  contrary,  they  are  more  fully  satisfied  than  ever 
before.  But,  by  reason  of  the  growing  efficiency  of 
industry,  she  attains  many  times  over  the  same 
result  with  a  less  expenditure  of  means.  But  it 
grows  by  the  aid  and  the  leisure  of  time  provided  by 
the  effectiveness  of  industry.  As  industry  becomes 
more  scientific,  and  wise,  and  efficient,  so  much  more 
the  race's  time  and  energy  can  be  turned  into  other 
channels  and  directed  to  other  objects,  such  as  the 
means  by  which  its  own  elevation  is  effected. 

On  the  subject  of  productive  work,  I  have  had 
mostly  in  mind  muscular  work,  but  the  pleasures  and 
benefits  conferred  by  brain-workers  upon  them- 
selves, and  upon  the  world  at  large,  should  not  be 
overlooked.  But  what  I  was  going  to  say  is  that, 
as  the  muscle  centers  in  the  brain  are  closely  con- 
nected with  the  mind  centers,  the  habitual  use  of  the 
muscle  centers  greatly  influences  the  latter.  In  other 
words,  the  establishment  of  regular  habits  of  muscu- 
lar movements  has  much  to  do  in  the  formation  of 
mental  and  moral  habits;  has  much  to  do  in  the 
making  of  the  man. 

Hence,  when  we  arrive  at  a  stage  in  life  when 
we  can  no  longer  do  muscular  work,  we  lose  much — 
we  lose  its  salutary  effects  upon  our  thoughts  and 
moral  natures,  just  as  we  lose  much  enjoyment  as 


270  JNDUSTKIAUSM 

civilizaiioii  advances.  For  instance,  by  the  use  of 
furnaces  and  steam  heaters  in  our  homes,  we  lose  the 
bright  and  clieerful  wood  fire. 

We  lose  the  old-time  immemorial  domestic 
hearth,  which  has  been  the  theme  of  optimists  and 
poets,  who  have  lavished  on  it  the  most  endearing 
words  and  have  associated  with  it  their  most  delight- 
ful thought.  The  fireplace  has  always  been  the 
happiest  rallying  place  of  the  family.  Who  does  not 
remember,  when  he  remembers  little  else,  the  old- 
time  hearth-stone,  around  which  the  stories  were 
told  which  used  to  excite  and  interest  the  youthful 
mind. 

Here,  too,  the  first  manifestations  of  our  gov- 
ernmental policy  appeared. 

Your  gas  logs  and  electric  appliances  cannot 
take  the  place  of  the  old  hearth-stone  for  pleasant 
reminiscences  in  the  mind  of  youth,  the  working 
man,  or  decrepit  old  man,  either.  Yet  it  is  to  our 
advantage  to  march  with  the  procession,  forego 
these  joys  and  give  way  to  the  progress  of  industry 
wdiich  we  have  helped  to  develop. 

In  other  words,  w^e  lose  in  growing  old  without 
suf^cient  compensation,  wdiile  we  lose  by  the 
progress  of  industry  and  science  the  things  that  are 
beautiful  and  dear  to  the  heart.  But  there  is  abund- 
ant compensation  in  the  invention  of  new  utilities, 
such  as  steam  and  electric  locomotion,  the  telegraph, 
the  telephone,  and  manifold  other  inventions;  for 
we  must  let  intellect  rule  over  us  and  not  emotion. 

For  what  has  been  said  in  this  paper,  I  am 
indebted  to  various  sources,  but  especially  to  the 
writings  of  one  Mr.  Bowack,  as  he  was  in  turn 
indebted  to  Schoupenhaur. 


The  Fear  of  Death 

The  instinctive "  dread  of  death  is  necessary  to 
the  preservation  of  Hfe.  The  fear  of  death  is  very 
deeply  seated  in  all  animal  matter  as  an  instinct. 
We  see  it  where  life  consists  of  a  mere  sack  of  fluid. 
To  conserve  life  and  avoid  death  is  one  of  the  first 
manifestations  of  life.  When  a  lowly  organized 
mass  of  animal  matter,  as  we  find  it  in  water,  comes 
in  contact  with  a  piece  of  ordinary  matter  that  con- 
tains nourishment,  it  spreads  out  around  it  so  as  to 
absorb  that  nourishment;  the  reverse  action  taking- 
place  when  the  article  it  encounters  is  injurious.  The 
first  signs  of  movement  or  life  show  that  the  sub- 
ject has  inherent  in  its  nature  a  sense  of  the  value  of 
life.  This  inherent  sense  of  the  value  of  life  con- 
tinues from  the  lowest  organized  being,  where  there 
is  no  sign  of  a  nervous  system  or  indications  of 
mind,  on  up  through  to  the  most  complicated  struc- 
ture, even  to  man  himself.  And  we  find  in  all  beings 
some  arrangement  for  defense  or  protection  against 
whatever  is  dangerous  to  life.  In  some  this  con- 
sists in  the  power  of  diminishing  their  size,  as  is  the 
case  with  the  earth  worm ;  in  others  it  is  the  power 
to  apparently  increase  their  size,  as  by  erecting  their 
hair  or  feathers,  so  as  to  make  themselves  formid- 
able in  appearance.  In  others,  the  escape  from 
enemies  lies  in  their  color,  which  is  near  that  of 
the  grass  or  soil  they  inhabit,  which  renders  their 
detection  more  difficult.  In  this  country,  for  instance, 
it  will  be  noticed  that  most  animals  and  reptiles  are 
brown,  such  as  the  prairie  dog,  snakes,  the  antelope, 

271 


L'7L'  run    I'l-AR     Of    DEATH 

and  other  game,  in  others  a  shell  is  secreted  over 
the  surface,  which  is  the  case  with  a  large  class  of 
tish  and  reptiles;  while  others,  again,  have  pointed 
armor  or  horns. 

In  man,  his  superior  intelligence  provides  many 
ways  of  defense  and  escape.  At  the  same  time,  his 
dread  of  death  keeps  pace  with  his  intelligence,  and 
in  many  cases  outstrips  it;  so  that  there  is  a  dread 
of  death  which  is  out  of  reason,  or  which  reason 
does  not  justify.  The  fear  of  death,  which  was 
implanted  in  us  for  a  good  purpose,  needs  to  be 
controlled. 

The  instinct  of  fear  in  general  is  in  childhood 
often  unduly  developed  by  bad  training  and  exam- 
ple. In  early  childhood  the  impulse  is  very  easily 
awakened,  so  easily  in  fact,  that  a  few  words,  or  the 
expression  of  the  face,  is  enough  to  start  it  into 
activity.  The  bare  instinct  is  there,  the  direction 
which  it  is  to  take  rests  upon  circumstances  of  train- 
ing. In  such  ways  children  become  afraid  of  dark- 
ness, of  being  alone,  of  ghosts,  of  thunder  and 
lightning,  of  dogs  and  cats,  of  anything  at  all  wdiich 
has  been  connected  with  the  crude  instinct  of  fear. 
And  too  often  the  impressions  remain  far  into  adult 
life,  if  not  throughout.  The  especially  bad  thing 
about  it  is  the  hue  of  timidity  which  they  are  apt 
to  give  the  person's  entire  character.  This  depends 
to  a  great  extent  upon  one's  bodily  temperament, 
but  it  must  be  fought  against  with  all  your  energy 
from  the  first  moment  of  its  recognition.  You  must 
call  to  your  aid  your  common  sense,  your  reason, 
and  your  counter-instincts.  You  must  know  that 
you  can  control  the  frailty. 

Granting  that  fear  as  a  natural  instinct  is  not 
unduly  developed,  at  the  same  time  there  may  be 
enough  in  the  dread  of  death  to  greatly  impair  the 
happiness  of  life.  This  dread  may  be  greatly  les- 
sened by  reason,  without  rendering  death  attractive. 


THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH  273 

In  the  first  place,  it  will  appear,  upon  reflection, 
that  death  is  a  merciful  agent.  What  would  this 
world  be  without  bodily  death? 

If  there  never  had  been  war  or  pestilence  or 
epidemics,  such  as  Cholera,  Yellow  Fever  or  Black 
longue — no  death,  in  other  words, — the  earth 
would  contain  many  thousand  times  its  present 
population.  There  would  be  many,  very  many, 
where  there  is  now  but  one,  and  moreover  the  worst 
of  it  would  be  that  the  vast  majority  of  them  would 
be  old  and  decrepit.  You  may  talk  about  dumb 
thunder,  dark  lightning,  or  red-hot  ice,  or  any  other 
absurdity,  just  as  wxll  as  talk  about  people  living 
without  growing  old.  The  consequence  would  be 
that  the  great  majority  would  have  to  be  supported 
by  the  labors  of  the  few.  It  would  not  differ, 
whether  it  would  be  by  charity  or  by  taxation,  the 
fact  would  be  the  same — a  few  would  have  to  main- 
tain a  population  far  beyond  their  capability. 

And  then  they  would  be  w^eakly,  trembling,  help- 
less, old  people.  It  would  be  a  sad  sight  to  behold. 
They  would  be  helpless,  as  much  so  as  children; 
could  not  wait  upon  themselves,  could  not  even  feed 
themselves;  and  yet  some,  through  a  horror  of 
death,  would  seem  to  want  them  to  live  on  and  on 
forevermore. 

But  suppose  none  died.  Did  you  ever  stop  to 
wonder  wdiat  the  conditions  of  the  earth  would  be 
if  none  had  died  ?  They  would  be  too  miserable  and 
horrid  to  think  of,  because  they  would  be  the 
accumulated  miseries  from  the  foundations  of  the 
earth.  Even  now  there  are  places  where  population 
exceeds  the  means  of  sustenance,  so  that  some  are 
forced  to  go  hungry.  If  there  had  been  no  death, 
this  evil  would  be  vastly  multiplied.  Thousands 
would  be  compelled  to  go  half-starved ;  their  frames 
would  be  emaciated,  their  eyes  sunken  in  their  sock- 
ets, their  faces  would  be  ghastly,  and  the  skin  over 


Ii74  run    I'liAR     Of    DEATH 

ihc  body  would  cleave  to  the  bones;  in  fact,  they 
would  be  breathing  skeletons. 

Take  the  condition  of  a  man  who  has  lost  all 
motor  activity,  such  as  is  the  case  in  general  par- 
alysis. What  could  be  more  pitiable?  Involuntary 
movements  may  be  preserved  or  exaggerated  all 
over  the  body,  so  that  a  strong  puff  of  air  in  the  face 
would  set  the  arms  and  legs  going  like  a  jumping 
jack.  Intense  pain  in  the  joints  would  most  likely 
occur,  and  the  bones  would  become  fragile  and 
easily  break;  hemorrhages  under  the  skin  would 
arise  from  trifling  force  or  injury,  giving  rise  to 
clots  of  blood  in  the  tissues.  The  patient  is  confined 
to  his  bed,  fed  like  a  small  child,  and  the  body  is 
simply  a  filthy,  helpless  mass  of  humanity;  bed- 
sores, superficial  and  deep,  set  in,  and  his  inability 
to  shift  his  position  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  the  situ- 
ation or  pressure  upon  his  decaying  parts  adds  to 
his  misery.  And  yet,  shall  we  allow  our  natural 
dread  of  death  to  come  in  and  say  he  ought  not 
to  die? 

But  if  there  were  no  death,  these  conditions 
would  be  infinitely  multiplied. 

The  last  condition  referred  to  is  bad  enough,  but 
one  that  is  worse,  if  possible,  is  that  of  dementia, 
or  the  loss  of  all  mental  activity,  as  we  see  in  old 
age.  Loss  of  mind  is  a  natural  process  of  simple 
enfeeblement  and  decay.  The  effect  of  age  upon  the 
brain  is  to  take  out  the  energy  of  its  gray  matter 
and  destroy  the  power  of  thought  and  all  activity. 
Little  by  little  there  steals  upon  the  body  and  mind 
an  inability  to  concern  itself  with  matters  that  are 
far  removed  from  its  own  welfare.  Let  us  contem- 
plate the  condition  of  such: 

In  extreme  old  age,  the  individual  sits  doubled 
up  in  his  chair,  his  head  sunk  forward  on  his  breast, 
his  eyes  staring  straight  before  him,  his  jaw 
dropped,  his  arms  hanging  uselessly  by  his  sides,  his 


THE    FBAR    OF    DEATH  275 

hands  resting  inactive,  and  his  lower  extremities 
relaxed.  He  can  neither  dress  nor  undress  himself. 
Often  he  is  dirty  in  his  habits,  and  has  to  be  cared 
for  like  a  child.  The  whole  nervous  system  acts 
sluggishly  and  without  energy,  for  its  topmost  strata 
are  altogether  out  of  action.  He  moves  but  little, 
and  undertakes  no  employment.  He  does  not  speak 
unless  addressed,  and  then  answers  not  directly,  but 
after  an  interval  in  monosyllables,  and  is  relieved  at 
being  left  alone. 

In  his  mind  the  higher  and  liner  feelings  are 
extinguished.  Affections,  regard  for  the  feelings, 
comforts  and  convenience  of  others  is  lost.  Nothmg 
remains  but  the  appetite  for  food  (and  that  is  fickle) 
and  the  desire  for  tranquility.  Mind  and  conduct 
are  alike  reduced  to  the  lowest  state.  He  even  fails 
to  recognize  his  own  children. 

It  is  often  noticeable  that  old  dements  become 
fretful  and  irritable;  their  tempers  are  less  under 
control  than  formerly;  little  things  excite  them  to 
anger;  they  are  also  easily  grieved;  they  take, 
again,  after  an  interval  of  many  years,  to  weeping, 
and  their  tears  are  elicited  by  insignificant  matters. 
If  the  old  dement  begins  to  whimper  because  his 
food  is  not  ready  at  the  usual  hour,  he  would  be 
looked  on  as  betraying  the  childishness  of  old  age. 
Suppose  that  he  screams  aloud  for  his  food  and 
creates  an  uproar,  suppose  that  when  his  daughter 
brings  it  to  him  a  few  minutes  late  he  assails  her 
with  foul  language;  suppose  that  he  proceeds  to 
actual  violence,  and  strikes  her,  overwhelming  her 
at  the  same  time  with  abuse;  in  such  case  there  is 
mental  derangement,  or  insanity,  which  I  will  pro- 
ceed to  notice. 

The  condition  we  have  just  noticed  is  bad 
enough,  and  it  would  seem  that  death  would  be  a 
relief,  but  if  your  hostility  to  death  will  not  allow 
you  to  favor  it  and  look  upon  it  as  a  blessing,  how 


276  rilH    FEAR    OP    D EAT  11 

iiiucli  greater  extremity  would  you  ha\e  us  reduce 
man  to  before  you  would  be  willing  for  him  to  die  ? 

We  will  refer  to  one  more  condition,  which  is 
worse  than  dementia,  and  that  is  to  mental  disorder, 
for,  if  possible,  a  disordered  mind  is  worse  than  no 
mind  at  all.  Mental  disorder  may  be  of  every 
degree.  Beginning  w-ith  the  man  who  fails  to 
adjust  himself  successfully  to  his  surroundings,  and 
hence  fails  in  business  repeatedly,  and  the  man  who 
is  a  failure  socially.  There  would  be  many  lunatics, 
with  ill-kept  bodies,  their  driveling  spittle,  constant 
jargon  and  passions  of  wild  beasts.  Death  for  such 
would  be  a  relief,  and  if  there  were  no  death  we 
\vould  think  Providence  to  blame  for  not  providing 
one  to  end  the  sufferings  of  these  poor  wretches. 

But  if  there  were  no  hope  of  death,  the  prospects 
of  such  would  be  pitiable  indeed! 

To  favor  the  continued  existence  of  such, 
through  prejudice  of  death,  is  as  bad,  if  not  worse, 
than  a  murderous  proclivity.  Is  not  living  such  a 
life  worse  than  death? 

But  as  there  is  a  death,  how  grateful  we  ought 
to  be,  how  thankful  for  such  relief.  If  death  be 
beneficent  in  any  class  of  cases,  wdiy  not  in  all  the 
aged? 

Alay  not  the  reason  why  we  do  not  see  the 
beneficence  of  it  in  all  such  cases  l^e  that  we  do  not 
look  deeply  enough? 

By  looking  deeply,  w^e  wall  see  that  there  are 
problems  in  nature  that  involve  a  conflict  between 
reason  and  instinct,  and  that  our  well-being  depends 
on  the  triumph  of  reason. 

But  it  may  be  asked,  why  should  we  be  called 
upon  to  undergo  such  a  conflict  ?  To  this  it  may  be 
answered  that  it  is  for  our  own  good.  Why,  for 
instance,  should  we  be  called  upon  to  undergo  a 
conflict  with  evil  in  the  world  at  all?  Could  not 
and  should  not  evil  have  been  left  out?     I  believe 


THE    FEAR    OF    DEATH  277 

that  we  must  answer  no.  Moral  evil  is,  in  a  certain 
sense,  necessary.  If  it  were  wholly  eliminated, 
human  life  would  lack  an  indispensible  element. 
Take  away  all  evil  and  you  abolish  life  itself.  It 
fiiiist  be,  not  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  good. 

We  cannot  conceive  of  the  possibility  of  exter- 
minating evil  without  at  the  same  time  striking  at 
the  good.  For,  in  short,  we  first  become  conscious 
of  the  true  worth  of  goodness  through  evil.  All 
the  great  heroes  of  humanity  become  such  only  by 
struggling  with  evil.  Hence,  if  we  eliminate  all 
evil  from  history,  we  at  the,  same  time  eliminate  the 
conflict  of  the  good  with  evil,  and  lose  the  high- 
est and  grandest  possession  of  humanit}- — moral 
heroism. 

Likewise  our  heroism  in  the  conflict  of  reason 
against  the  dread  of  death  depends  upon  the  success 
of  the  former,  for  in  the  struggle  reason  waxes 
strong  and  fortifies  us  against  the  event.  Althoug-h 
to  control  a  natural  instinct  is  no  easy  matter.  The 
object  is  not  to  destroy  the  fear  of  death  entirely 
(this  were  a  detriment  to  us),  but  to  overpower  its 
dread  by  reason.  This  involves  a  conflict  of  a 
natural  powder  with  a  natural  instinct,  and  the  con- 
test contributes  to  our  uplift. 

One  of  the  strongest  and  most  satisfactory  rea- 
sons in  relation  to  the  matter  of  death  is  the  impos- 
sibility of  organizing  and  perfecting  a  body  that 
would  not  wear  out,  particularly  a  body  capable  of 
a  high  action,  such  as  thinking,  feeling  and  delicate 
movements,  for  there  are  some  things  that  are 
impossible,  even  with  an  Omnipotent  God  Himself. 
And  were  such  a  thing  possible,  previous  considera- 
tions have  shown  it  would  not  be  for  the  best. 

The  limited  durability  of  its  tissues  is  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  its  failing  to  live  forever.  This 
limited  durability  is  the  true  cause  of  death,  and  no 

19- 


278  THE    FEAR    OF    DEAT,. 

derogatory  reflections  ought  to  arise  on  that  account, 
as  no  one  is  to  blame,  death  being  a  necessity  and 
not  a  punishment.  W'e  are  sure  the  composition  of 
the  body  could  not  have  been  arranged  in  such  wise 
as  to  preclude  death. 

The  heart,  in  course  of  years,  will  lose  its  irrita- 
bility; the  glands  of  the  stomach  will  shrink  and 
lose  their  efficiency;  all  the  tissues  will  become 
inflexible  and  stiff ;  the  eye,  by  reason  of  changes  in 
the  shaj^e  of  its  lense,  will  become  dim ;  the  cells  of 
the  brain  will  dwindle  and  finally  disappear,  and  that 
organ  will  lose  the  power  of  thought  or  reacting  at 
all.  In  fact,  the  whole  body  will  become  a  worn- 
out  machine,  and  death  is  desirable  to  remove  it. 
And  we  find  that  the  aged  pass  out  of  life  as  natu- 
rally and  as  easily  as  they  came  into  it.  Whatever 
hope  religion  affords  is  that  much  positive  con- 
solation. 


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